


In the Wake of Madness

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Abuse, Angst, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Body Image, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Domestic, Dreams and Nightmares, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Lovers, Exhaustion, Falling In Love, Families of Choice, Family, Fever, Fluff, Forced to Rely on Enemy, Friendship, Hallucinations, Hurt Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mild Sexual Content, On the Run, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Series, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Ames, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Scars, Self-Harm, Sharing a Bed, Side Effects, Slow Romance, Suicide Attempt, Surgery, Temporary Amnesia, Time bomb, Torture, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, drugged, h/c_bingo, h/c_bingo amnesty challenge, loss of home, taking care of somebody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 18:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5938726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ames has a knack for saving Alec’s life, and no one can rightfully blame the transgenic if he can’t help but hang around for something to come to light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Wake of Madness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the February Amnesty Challenge for h/c_bingo and combining all of these prompts: Wildcard (torture), deadline/time bomb, taking care of somebody and fever/delirium. Plus there’s like forty other hurt/comfort prompts in here so oh well. 
> 
> _Soundtrack:_ Lyrics are as marked. You can listen to the soundtrack [here.](http://hypster.com/playlists/userid/5354917?7165248)

 

 _~It_ _’s dead, it’s over all too slow_

 _Can_ _’t you see you’re my worst enemy?_

 _It_ _’s over, overthrown_

_All I see is just faithless decree~ (Prelude to Descent - Paradise Lost)_

* * *

 

“Ever think about having kids, Maxie?”

She snorted, eyes flicking to him for a brief moment before returning to her binoculars. “Not with you.” Max was supposed to be alone on watch, per her request, but it wouldn’t be Alec if he didn’t try to distract her a little. Max was too tense these days and he figured it was his job to help her relax and more easily give assignments to the others, who were just as capable.

They had been living in the cesspool that was Terminal City for a little over four months now. Food was low, lower than it usually was despite Logan’s help; personal hygiene was non-existent without showers and with little water; and who knew what chemicals thrived in the air, slowly but very surely poisoning them all. The concerns reached Max’s ears, courtesy of Alec, but there was little she could do about them.

There was little any of them could do.

Now Alec was a guy who needed his junk food and needed his showers and most certainly needed some room to move around and breathe without running into anyone or fearing being shot down by a sniper. But Max had made it very clear early on how it was either learn to live together or go out there and die alone. While Alec had been the go it alone guy before Maxie had knocked some sense into him, he didn’t particularly want to be dead, so he stayed put.

Yet he was tense and irritable and watches with Max or Joshua sharing food with him didn’t help his mood any. He was going stir crazy and he knew the others could tell by how close Max kept him and how close Max obviously told Joshua to keep him, by how insistent Joshua had been lately to get Alec to sleep over and share every meal with him, which were more like snacks and were few and far between.

He had to get out. And he had to get out _now_.

Talking with Max about trivial concerns was one of the only ways he could keep his head nowadays. Maybe that was why she lacked bite in her words whenever she told him to leave and go do something constructive; Alec wasn’t really a constructive guy either though. That made him miss Jam Pony, where at least Normal would cut him some slack and forgive him if a run went wrong and more often than not had a box of pop tarts waiting for him behind the counter.

He smirked, following the binoculars’ line of sight. “What about with Logan then?”

She shifted then, seeming for all the world oddly uncomfortable, and grasped the binoculars tighter with her gloved hands. Funny how it must have been habit to leave those gloves on, despite only seeing Logan about once a week to minimize risk in more than one sense: so they wouldn’t get caught, so Max couldn’t put him in a coma again. Alec wasn’t about to tell her to take them off. The last time he had seen Logan on the ground, barely breathing, he hadn’t remembered to breathe himself. He had taken having Logan around for granted, and then the very real possibility of him slipping into a coma and dying had stopped Alec dead in his tracks. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought the guy up after all, it seemed kinda cruel now.

“Should’ve named you dick.”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that. I’m sorry.” He was too, which completely took him off guard. Logan was a good guy, and he knew Max was trying to hide her misery of not being able to be with him. She couldn’t very well ask Logan to live in Terminal City with her even if she wasn’t poison to him, but the fact that Max couldn’t even sneak away with him and have one night together must’ve seemed infuriating. Here Max was, trying to keep them all together, trying to keep them all alive, and here she was getting nothing she wanted. Unless keeping them alive was her only endgame, which he kinda doubted. 

 _Fuck, being here is making me_ human. _I have really got to stop getting in people_ _’s heads._

She turned, her side facing him again. “Sure you are.”

“Look,” he spit out. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood, okay? And clearly I suck at it.” _Clearly I suck at everything nowadays._ Yet Max was still keeping him around, as her soldier and confidante and brother and _friend_ , and she actually _listened_ to what he had to say when he wasn’t complaining of one thing or another. _And_ she had to want to get away for a while.

“What about you, Alec? Any kids in your future?”

He nearly jumped ten feet in the air at the question; it was never like Max to play along. Maybe she was changing too. When Alec recovered considerably he answered the question the only way he knew how, since he hadn’t planned on answering it at all. “Nah. Me? I’d suck at parenting. But you, somehow I think you’d be a good mother. Logan wouldn’t suck too bad as a dad either.”

“I’ll pass that on, Alec. Now, will you shut up and go away?”

“Lady’s orders,” he saluted and went back down below, leaving Max to her thoughts and her solitary watch.

* * *

 

Two nights later and Max was back on watch again. The woman could be damn infuriating sometimes.

“What do you think White’s doing now?” Alec figured it was better conversation than the stupid question he had asked two nights back. Max had never talked about kids or Logan since, not that she’d ever talk about Logan with him anyway, but it still ate away at Alec sometimes, the fact that now that everyone knew of their existence, none of them would ever make their own family or live somewhat normal lives again.

“Hopefully he’s in some prison far away from here. Dead would be the better option.”

She didn’t ask why he had asked in the first place, even though the question clearly irritated her. She didn’t ask why the hell he cared, why the hell he couldn’t just move on. He had been shot in the shoulder and he could still feel his skin burn sometimes, as if there was a permanent hole there, gaping and sore, ready for further damage. 

Thinking of _Ames_ fucking _White_ wasn’t on his to-do list; nevertheless, he came to his mind unbidden and even more unwelcome.

* * *

 

Not even a week later and Alec had walked.

And while on his way to find somewhere to hole up for a while before he attempted to leave the city, ran smack dab into the very same Ames fucking White, who was apparently also holing up before fleeing.

Alec had been so startled that White already had a gun pulled on him before he could react. The guy looked a mess, hair disheveled, clothes wrinkled and tie filthy, not to mention bloodshot eyes and a look of intense paranoia that Alec could never have imagined, let alone seen White wearing before. The only thing that Alec didn’t see different was White’s not trembling hand; he had no doubt his less than mortal enemy could and _would_ shoot him. Alec really didn’t want another bullet wound in his shoulder.

“Turn the fuck around and start walking,” White had barked, pressing the barrel of his gun to the back of Alec’s neck as he started turning. He really hated not being able to see the asshole’s face, to see what his next move would be, but he started walking and tried to think the best out of his new situation.

Hey, maybe the guy would let Alec bunk with him for a while.

He really needed to get his priorities straight.

* * *

 

Turned out, White was really planning on letting Alec bunk with him, albeit handcuffed to the irritatingly loud air conditioner in the room. Alec complained incessantly - so as to piss White off - about the handcuff around his wrist being too tight, and the air conditioner keeping him up four nights in a row, and the shitty cold takeout pizza and the TV being too loud. Anything he could complain about he did. White would smack him around for a few minutes - though it seemed his heart wasn’t really in it - before turning back to the TV looking heart-attack tense, which was why Alec took great pleasure in making him even more stressed.

By the ninth day though, he stopped complaining. He was too tired to open his mouth and too hungry for his jumbled head to think up things to complain about. Greedy White had only given him one slice of pizza a day, just to keep him from starving, and Alec was cold and dizzy and so fucking _pissed_ but he knew he could do nothing.

His wrist was bleeding but that was the least of his worries. White rarely tore his gaze away from the TV - an endless loop of cops and press and Terminal City - unless it was to take a rare shower or go out for takeout once a day. The room was stuffy and Alec’s head pounded an unsteady beat that rose higher in volume than the air conditioner that just wouldn’t fucking quit. It would startle him out of sleep, that or White throwing things around the room. He had never talked to Alec before, no matter how much Alec had egged him on, so why would he try again now? Regardless, Alec’s mouth was drier than sandpaper and he could no longer see more than a foot in front of him.

Alec’s mouth opened but even though White was turned away, eyes glued to the screen, he shushed him.

The transgenic nodded his acquiescence and blacked out.

* * *

 

Consciousness came slowly and was accompanied by a throbbing head and an onslaught of nausea… kinda like the hangover from hell, and if Alec had his way he would never wake up again. He was glued to a wall in his dreams and prying himself loose was next to impossible. He felt heavy lying there, no longer agile and capable and _strong_. He needed to be strong too, at least Manticore had given that to him. If he wasn’t that then what could he be, what in himself could he rely on?

There was a slap on his cheek but there wasn’t much force behind it. “Wake up.” But Alec lay there, heavy, gasping, drowning under the weight of what he did not know. The voice was more insistent now yet it was no more familiar. “Wake up, freak!”

No more slaps, but his eyes opened to a room that no longer lay completely in shadow. There was light at his back and there was light in his captor’s eyes too. A fire that could put him out long before he sat up and fought.

White had Alec’s wrist in his hand and he was dabbing something on the sensitive skin. Alec shifted, just enough to realize that his other wrist was restrained, this time to the bedpost with rope. He didn’t struggle, partly because he didn’t think he’d be able to move much and also because White seemed almost sort of relaxed. The transgenic was no longer in the mood to upset that delicate balance.

Alec watched him until he didn’t think he could anymore. White wasn’t looking at him, just down at his wrist where his thumb moved gentle circles into his skin. Alec almost flinched at that, _gentle_ , and it wasn’t the first time he thought about recoiling from his enemy’s touch.

Yet White seemed different now: quiet, at ease, that frustration under the surface yet still careful. The TV was off and the heavy blinds had been opened somewhat, and for the first time Alec realized just how quiet the room was, no air conditioner to haunt him into his dreams. Alec’s cheeks didn’t even sting anymore from White’s slaps.

What the hell was going on?

Alec cleared his throat, testing it. “How long?”

“Two days.” White turned his head to the side, the light catching his face while the other half still lay in partial shadow. His fingers left Alec’s wrist and he screwed the cap back on some jar, placing it on the nightstand by Alec’s head. Alec thought about moving, knowing White would probably tell him to get his lazy ass out of bed, however the hell he _ended up_ in White’s bed, but he was too tired to move and he wondered why the hell he should anyway. White got up but he didn’t leave, choosing to sit on the bed instead. Alec watched him with half-open eyes, fearful of his next move. “Thought you were just sleeping, but something woke me up later and I found you weren’t breathing. Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

There was a warning in his voice but no malice. Alec merely raised an eyebrow at his words before staring at the jar on the nightstand, trying to read the label and failing. “What are you going to do with me anyway?”

Kill him most likely, or take him to back to his freaky Conclave, if that was still an option. Alec would have preferred death, if asked, but he suspected that White wasn’t going to ask him a damn thing. “You shouldn’t have left. Should’ve just stayed tucked away in that hole of yours, but no, you had to come out and play.” So what if he needed some breathing air, some time to think without following Max’s every order? Alec couldn't live in that place anymore, knowing any second could be his last. At least with White there was a certain predictability, an inkling of what would happen to him.

At least White gave him his own bed for a change.

“What about you?” Like Alec cared, like Alec cared about anything having to do with Ames White.

White turned towards him then, a gigantic fucking sneer on his face. “What about me? I’m being hunted down by my own fucking government, and on top of that the Conclave’s pissed that I didn’t bring at least one of you freaks back with me. Barely made it out alive.”

 _You look it,_ Alec thought, but he bit his tongue and tried for another remark. “So what, no more dying for their cause?” He felt much more awake now, not to mention bolder. If White hadn’t let him die then there was some reason for that, considering how easy it would have been to just leave Alec in his dreams, tied up to that wall, slowly suffocating.

“Not when it involves them shooting me down.” White went quiet then, so quiet that Alec wondered exactly what the hell was going on to render the guy so speechless. “Look, I was wrong, okay? Should’ve left a long time ago and I shouldn’t have come back. I was stupid about it.”

Ames White admitting he was stupid? Now this was something Alec was grateful he was still alive to witness. “And now you’ve got a starving, tied-up transgenic in your bed. How do ya explain that one?”

White stood up but didn’t bother to restrain Alec’s other arm, the one where his wrist was covered in some sticky substance that could very well be some form of poison, but Alec doubted it. White wouldn’t go to that much trouble when it came to him. “I won’t need to explain it. No one will find you.”

Alec swallowed, staring at White as he exited the room and left him alone. Most likely for good.

* * *

 

The next time he woke up he was lying on his other side, facing the window and a very pissed off looking White, who was now tied to that very same air conditioner Alec had been tied to for a little over a week. There were voices talking, most likely to White, and he quickly flicked his gaze away from Alec.

Alec tried not to breathe, not to think, not to move. His one arm was still restrained to the bed, but Alec pulled on it very slightly and realized that it was much looser than before. White must have tried to untie him before his freak family burst in and held him at gunpoint.

And yes, there was a gun; Alec heard a very audible click resounding through the room.

“I would have expected better from you, Ames. Even after all your charades. Taking in this freak? You should have shot him and brought him to us while you had the chance.” Alec continued to stare straight ahead as a woman spoke, never taking his eyes off of White, off of his black eye and his split lip and his sneer and the way he bit down on his lip, as if he was preventing himself from giving Alec away.

“To my defense,” White spit out a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “X5-494’s shelf life is short anyway. I’ve been trying to get information out of him, but with no use.”

There was silence in the room for a long, agonizing moment, Alec steeling himself to get away from the mess White had dragged them both into. The voice nearly made him jump. “Then why were you untying him when we found you then? Letting him go, or taking him out back to shoot him like the dog he is?” Alec suppressed a growl but it made the situation slightly better that White didn’t respond, considering Alec might have just pounced on him and done the job for the bitch standing behind him. She sighed then, long and drawn out, and Alec listened for any more breathing in the room: two other people and he hoped that was it. “Well then, any last words?”

“Fuck last words, I....”

In one swift movement, Alec slipped his hand out of the rope and turned around just in time to see the woman’s gun pointed at him. He whipped it out of her hand, sending the gun flying across the floor, but he had vastly underestimated her. She was a Familiar after all. She had him pinned down on the floor in mere seconds but not for long. He ended up on top of her not even ten seconds later, gun in his hand. Shooting her didn’t come with any thought, he was trained for this, but as he stared down at the puddle of blood spreading out around her head, Alec suddenly realized that there was fighting going on around him.

White had somehow slipped out of his cuffs as if he had waited for Alec to strike first all along. There was already another dead Familiar on the floor, and White was in the process of putting down the second one. Alec decided to help the son of a bitch, showing off now that he wasn’t tied up, and within moments the two of them were alone and on much more even footing than before.

And then there was a gun pointed at him again. Alec practically shouted, “What the fuck? Are we doing this again? We’re on the same team, jackass!” He was livid with himself that he had even helped the asshole in the first place, and his chance came when he saw yet another one of his freak family enter the room behind White, pointing a gun at his head. Alec moved to put him down, the distance too far to disarm, and ignored White completely.

A white hot flash exploded in front of him and he fell.

* * *

 

_~Everyone feels_

_Everyone screams_

_No one can change_

_The way we proceed_

_When new ghosts are in town~ (New Ghosts in Town - Autumnblaze)_

* * *

 

The first time he came ‘round there was the crack of someone’s head being driven against the floor. The second time someone was screaming at him... again. Alec groaned, shoving away the hands that pawed at him and slapped at his cheek. If he opened his mouth he would either scream or hurl. He had been trained all his life to deal with pain but this was intense even for him. Must have been a gut shot.

He could already feel himself slipping and sliding in his own blood as White tried to get him up.

 _What the fuck?!_ He screamed in his head. _Just leave me here. Why the fuck do you keep changing your mind?!_

But White - good old White - wasn’t giving up because he apparently didn’t want to leave him here for more of his friends to find. Alec vaguely wondered about himself as leverage or bait or something, yet the thought slipped away within moments. Alec opened his eyes to see the shadows of the room and the black and white of White’s suit contrast with the vivid red that was now staining his captor’s clothes. Blood that belonged to Alec.

And what the hell? Had he really just stepped in front of a gun for White and taken a bullet for him? Sure, he didn’t think he was going to get shot, but he had done it with that risk nonetheless, with his typical cockiness. Still, if White was the White that Alec knew, then he would still leave him here even knowing that he’d be dead without Alec, drowning in his own blood.

 _Leave me, asshole. Leave me, I_ _’m done._

“Goddammit, you’re heavy. Don’t know what the fuck your problem is, freak, but I am not leaving your ass here, so you better start helping and _fast_.” His words didn’t spur Alec to any particular action, they only made him more tired. Still, the fight instinct kicked in for a second there and he did try, tried to move his legs, his arms, anything at all but nothing was budging, not even White’s attitude.

There was the sight and the feel and the sound of blood and there was nothing else after that.

* * *

 

There was a mouth smothering him the third time he woke. A warm, wet mouth that squirmed against his own, pumping air down into his throat.

He smiled, took an agonizing breath and fell promptly back down into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

If the change of scenery wasn’t enough, then the fact that his hands were no longer restrained to anything gave him cause to almost lay back and take nothing for granted ever again. As it was, White was sitting in a chair next to the bed he was laying in, head hanging down against his chest, asleep. Alec figured he could kill him right then and there, White was his mortal enemy after all, but somehow it didn’t seem like the time.

Not to mention the guy had saved his life.

He laid back against the pillows in the comfiest freaking bed he had ever been in for way too long, just watching White’s chest rise and fall. It wasn’t like Alec had been hunted by him for long, even though the first time they had made contact White had threatened to kill him, but he had already forgotten that the guy was still human, as in needing to breathe, needing to sleep, _vulnerable._ Just as vulnerable _now_ as Alec had been _then_. This thought should have made him get up and leave, run as far and as fast as he could, or it should have made him kill White. There was that gun on the bedside table after all, just left there, maybe not loaded but who the hell knew?

Alec couldn’t. White - _Ames_ was inside him now. There was Ames’ breath being pumped into his lungs, Ames’ mouth covering his own as if that was the only excuse for a kiss he could come up with. There was the heat of his mouth and the brutal grip on his shoulder and the surety that Ames would always be there. He wouldn’t have gone to all that trouble just to ditch his ass now.

As if on cue, Ames’ head rose from his chest and he stared at Alec. Glared at him was more like it, yet who was Alec to care or judge?

Ames got up, looked over at the gun and left it. Like he knew Alec wouldn’t do a goddamn thing with it. “You hungry?” The transgenic thought of cold pizza with suspicious looking pepperoni and a burning throat and he turned over on his side, away from White, away from the whole goddamn world. He only wished it were that easy.

“Don’t try to leave while I’m gone, I’ll hunt your ass down.” Funny thing was, Alec wasn’t going to.

Except that probably wasn’t funny at all.

* * *

 

Despite that White seemed to have taken good care of Alec while he was out, as the fidgety transgenic forced himself to stay still he could _feel_ the gaping hole in his abdomen.

He tried his best not to play with the sore, irritating stitches, picking at his fingernails until they bled instead. As bad as the pain was, if Alec laid back and thought about what the hell he was doing his stomach literally bottomed out, which wasn’t an entirely comfortable feeling. It was like something had been taken out of him and hadn’t been replaced, like not just the energy but also all the _life_ had been sapped out of him. He thought about how pitiable he had become, about why he had left Terminal City and _how_ he had become so attached to White in such a short span of time.

Alec had half a reason to believe it was something White was doing, his own way to spite Alec.

If only he _could_ believe that.

He had already tore his stitches twice, Ames cursing but hands gentle as he wielded the needle that pulled the folds of his skin back together. Alec had to bite down on his lip so hard it bled, but other than that there was no sign that he was in pain, despite that the stitches were in a _very_ revealing spot. Ames never took advantage, securing the bandage and then pulling the threadbare sheet up over Alec, leaving him to rest.

Except leaving wasn’t really an option. It was too dangerous for White to be wandering about, and the room was so small that privacy wasn’t an option. Leaving was turning his back and glancing out the window or escaping to the bathroom and taking a lukewarm shower at best, and barely a five-minute one at that. Alec would listen to the water run and wait impatiently until White stepped back out, one towel slung around his waist and another he would use to towel dry his hair. Alec would discreetly stare at the water droplets beading on his skin, the short hair that spiked up in every direction as he dried it, his chest not as muscled as Alec’s but enticing nonetheless.

He was sure Ames knew about it. He was sure Ames let him watch just because he pitied Alec’s boredom.

It was weird because the guy shouldn’t have major sex appeal, shouldn’t have _anything_ going for him, and Alec thought at first that maybe Ames was some sort of distraction he shouldn’t hate getting behind. Surely when Alec was up and running again White would go back to being slimy and vile and absolutely the last guy on the planet Alec would seriously consider fucking.

For now, he might as well enjoy the eye candy. 

There was at least one thing Alec could be grateful for. Ames stayed because he didn’t have a choice rather than cater to Alec’s fragile psyche. The cold, gut-clenching truth was that Alec was terrified of being alone. It would happen sooner or later but he preferred it wouldn’t be while he couldn’t defend himself. He was mooching off the guy, as much as White might have deserved it, but he was still taking something from White that he pretty much had to give until it was safe for him to leave the city.

Goddammit, he didn’t want White to leave either.

It was better not to think of that, even if he wasn’t mentioning the thought out loud.

The days were tiring lying in bed with nothing to do. If he was lucky, White would crack open one of his numerous books on the supremely boring art of golf and start reading out loud, and if Alec was even luckier he would fall asleep from boredom. He didn’t get much sleep otherwise, exhaustion pulled at him like fingers plucking a marionette’s strings, limbs bobbing in forced understanding, yet the pain snapped him up and laid him bare until his eyes were wet from burning and his teeth clenched tight to prevent himself from screaming.

As long as White didn’t leave… as long as he didn’t leave him here to slowly go insane.

Except he wasn’t even sure of that.

He let Ames worry about money and food and when Alec was set for new dosages of antibiotics. Painkillers weren’t an option, yet it didn’t explain how quiet White got when Alec was exhausted from the day’s continuous pain. He would sit on that same damn chair he always sat in and nibble on the leftover burrito from the day before, reading a newspaper. Alec would bite the inside of his cheek and mold his cuticles to his will and think about what he had wanted _home_ to be like after Max busted him and his would-be compatriots out of Manticore. Alec would think about living in a cabin deep in the woods somewhere, only trekking into town for those cheese puff things and pop tarts and anything else he would need.

Alec eventually gave in. “You gonna read to a guy or what?” It wasn’t like the transgenic, especially with White, but after waiting an hour he just couldn’t take the silence and the occasional crackle as Ames turned the page over anymore.

Ames usually took the bed then and Alec made himself small, which he needn’t have bothered with since Ames stuck close to the edge. His voice was soft and even, refusing to display and not even hiding its usual malice or annoyance. Maybe the guy just liked to hear himself talk, and Alec knew _that_ was true. Maybe White just didn’t mind anymore.

The question Alec wanted to know was: would he go back to being his usual bastard self when Alec could stay upright without falling over again?

Alec hoped not. That dream? He didn’t exactly know when but that dream had at some point morphed into Ames telling him to shut up and wrapping Alec up in his strong arms when the transgenic came in from the cold and fucking Alec into the mattress all gentle like until Alec couldn’t take it anymore. The images laid behind his eyelids and every time he closed his eyes he could see them, dancing there, fucking _tormenting_ him.

He wondered whether Ames saw them too, wondered what sort of things he wanted. White had had a family before Max and Logan had fucked that up for him. White had had a son and a wife and probably another kid on the way. He had already had that home and Alec envied him that now even though Ames was as far away from that life as Alec was. Alec, on the other hand, had never known a home except Manticore. Rachel had been ripped out of his arms because it wasn’t meant to be.

White wouldn’t even need to be ripped away, wouldn’t need to be dragged away or shot or killed. He would just _leave._

Alec licked his chapped lips. “Do me a favor? Don’t tell me when you go. Just make sure I’m asleep and then slip out the door or window, whatever. Just don’t tell me.” It would be kinder that way if he didn’t see it coming, if he didn’t see Ames walk out that door and lay there restless wondering if the hell he was gonna come back. White wasn’t kind, but maybe their time together meant something and he would leave Alec one last thing before he went: the knowledge that Alec could have done nothing to stop him.

He woke up later with White’s drawn face close to his own, a hand pressed over Alec’s heart. There was a beat in it again, no longer that dank, twisted hole that had been there before. There was a strong, steady beat and the feeling of something that wasn’t darkness filling him up and Alec swallowed down a heady gasp. Alec could feel the heat of _him_ in the cold room, and no one could blame him when he pressed closer, even if it wasn’t only for warmth.

* * *

 

Ames’ dark eyes watched Alec closely as he held onto the tether that was consciousness and breathed out steadily, feeling his body begin to adjust to the remnants of the pain. There was nothing Alec could do, not even push himself up and away, so he focused instead on holding onto his mortal enemy’s eyes and pulling himself into them.

It might not be the best way to stay awake but Alec would take whatever he could get. He wondered how long White had been watching him, wondered why he wasn’t as creeped out as he should be.

“World’s ended,” Ames told him. It was a reminder. A reminder that the world had already literally ended, kinda, and that Ames’ life had fallen apart too, had been ripped to shreds. Alec wanted to snort and tell him that his life was fucked up too now, and he’d do good to remember it, yet he’d never seen Ames this thoughtful and lately he’d seen so much of Ames that he never really wanted to see, that he never knew was there at all, and it freaked him the hell out.

“Not really,” Alec replied.

They were still _here_ , in a new shitty apartment, frozen in time and waiting for fuck knew what. Alec had Ames now, had those calloused but soft hands and brutal yet sorta endearing words and those million mile stares that couldn’t even be bothered to turn into glares anymore. For takeout he had tacos and wings and soup and lemonade that was too sugary, and he woke up in the middle of every freaking night to Ames’ pale face watching TV in the dark, or Ames gloating by the window, or Ames hovering over Alec like he was trying to check if he was still breathing, which was kinda sweet.

He dreamed of Ames climbing on top of him and pressing him down into the mattress, sucking him off until he relaxed boneless into said mattress. He dreamed of Ames kissing him and breathing into him, devious grin for Alec’s eyes alone. He thought about reaching out to grasp Ames’ hands, sobbing against his chest, pressing a gun to his cheek just to try once.

Ames was supposed to be his enemy; he had to try _once._

The Familiar kept the promises he never knew he made. He held Alec’s shaking hands in the dark and squeezed them, and let Alec sob into his shirt when the pain overruled everything he was supposed to be, and wrapped Alec’s fingers around the gun and let him hold it all night even though Alec wasn’t ever going to shoot him and even though Ames would protect him from all the monsters that lay in wait outside the door.

Alec woke up to an empty room because sometimes Ames just _left_ and he just had to sit still and wait for him to come back. He missed him then, so much he thought it wasn’t real. Ames never took long, as if he could feel that invisible tether that bound the two of them together too. He had taken Ames’ silence as a promise that he _wouldn_ _’t_ tell Alec when he left, and Ames had told him that he was going out for dinner, which probably caused Alec to collapse into the waiting arms of sleep.

At least his dreams were happy. At least there was that cabin waiting for him, smoke wafting up into a cold winter sky, Ames chopping firewood out back and Alec standing at the kitchen window watching his ass in a pair of jeans. This life would never happen but it was comforting nonetheless.

Until someone grasped that sky and tugged and Ames was dragged through the snow until Alec couldn’t see him anymore. Until someone stole his _dream._ He shouted himself awake just in time for a cloth to cover his mouth. No dreams came after that, just a bottomless pit of darkness and Alec screaming for Ames but no one could hear him because no sound was coming out. 

And he knew in that one gut-churning moment before he fell into that inky blackness that he would never see Ames White again.

* * *

 

_~Here is your broken character, the one left of heaven_

_Scissors cut him from the page, example_

_Continue to read not to retrace the steps, touch me_

_The hemorrhaging has ceased, has ceased_

_And I swallow these capsules, to regain my grip_

_And I swallowed myself sick_ ~ _(Bloodwork - 36 Crazyfists)_

* * *

 

He woke up and he couldn’t even pinpoint where it hurt because _everywhere_ hurt.

His face was one huge throbbing mess and he moved his jaw back and forth to test it, relieved to find it wasn’t broken. There was blood swishing around in his mouth and it took too much effort to spit it out so he swallowed, throat dry and raw. Immediately, more blood seemed to accumulate and he let this new batch trickle out of his mouth, too tired to care. It took too damn long but eventually he figured out that he was tied to a chair, arms twisted tight behind his back. Alec tested the restraints for what felt like an hour but didn’t feel even the slightest give. Not like he expected to. 

The room was dark but he could still make out his bloodied jeans. Alec closed his eyes and told himself not to think about White’s warm body curled so close to his own, a sharp contrast to the stabbing pains of cold coursing through his wrecked body. He told himself not to think about the taste of cold burritos in his mouth instead of blood, or that the gaping hole was there again, both figuratively and literally. His shirt was off and the wound had been opened up, the careful stitches created by Ames’ cautious fingers _gone_ and a sob tore its way free of Alec’s throat.

He remembered now: _…never see Ames White again._

A door opened then and the lights dimmed, and a fist connected with Alec’s cheek. He didn’t scream or cry out or jolt out of his seat, he sat there and took it because he was a good little soldier, because he had been trained to handle a hell of a lot worse than this.

A man’s voice asked him about Manticore and about his training and dangled promises in front of him that Alec spit at. He sneered at him like White would even though as much as he squinted he couldn’t see him, and he didn’t say a damn word because he knew it would piss him off. The knuckles cracked against his cheek and there was a fresh batch of blood in his mouth, coating his swollen gums, and when the fists started in on his abdomen wound he simply sat there and settled in for the ride and thought about White’s hands all over him and his lips mashing against his own and it was _alright_ when he couldn’t breathe anymore.

He thought about other things too. That White had set him up, had every reason to even if it was less likely than it had been before the guy had stitched him up and saved his life. Still, a stark and brutal possibility.

And still, Alec tried to connect together the fragmented images that danced like little ballerinas across his eyelids.

He tried until he couldn’t anymore, and by that point he no longer cared.

* * *

 

If he thought the days had been long before, they were even longer now.

Some guy always slapped him around for a while before he was tied to a table and either his head or body were cut open by several faceless shapes. Alec didn’t have a preference and for all he knew they didn’t either, for how often they changed it up. This was nothing like Psi-Ops had been, for one thing it was less precise and shorter… thank god. Because it was less precise it hurt more, fingers digging around in his head, searching for things Alec would never give up even if they asked nicely.

There was nothing much there though. Alec didn’t have much depth to him, maybe enough to fill a tablespoon and that was that. It was another question why White had even bothered with him at all.  

When they weren’t digging around in his head, they were cutting into his chest and stomach and abdomen. _Playing Operation_ , Alec all but chuckled. No matter what they did it never affected the hole in him, the one oozing darkness. They would stitch him up and the next day or after they were back at it again. Eventually, Alec came to enjoy the fingers rooting around in him, as if searching for parts of him they could tear out. Those fingers meant that _something_ was inside him instead of that maw of darkness. He learned to drift in dreams he didn’t understand, forgot the smell of Ames’ cheap soap and the pale remnants of his cologne, forgot why he had cared about White so much.

After a while he forgot his first name too.

* * *

 

The days couldn’t go on but they did. One bled into another with no meaning and no conceivable end. For all Alec knew, he could have been in that room for years. He was surprised he still had a brain to play around with, beyond disgusted that he hadn’t bled out yet. He could barely feel the stitches in him anymore. The hole grew bigger and it was only nonexistent when fingers brushed up against his organs and veins and _bones._ That profound feeling of emptiness came back again in full force as soon as those fingers threaded a needle and patched him up again… good as new. That once small crevice expanded and it would swallow him whole soon enough; Alec was more scared of that then _them._ When that happened there would be nothing left.

He wanted to tell them _fine, do whatever the fuck you want to do._

Alec knew they gave him drugs that kept him awake when they wanted him awake and did other things to him too, probably contributing to the memory loss because there were empty spots in his head where things had _once_ been, but sometimes he woke up and screamed because he _remembered_. He remembered a man -  _White_ \- with sharp eyes and hands that looked rough but were gentle and blood underneath his fingernails and his hand grasping Alec’s chin so hard it hurt and a sneer so familiar it physically _hurt_ more than any needles and digging and tearing ever could.

So he let them tear at him all they wanted, let them take what they needed.

Because nothing was worse than forgetting those hands and that sneer and those _eyes._

* * *

 

They got sloppy one day.

Alec slipped loose of the restraints easily; it was more of a problem keeping himself upright. He fell against one of the metal tables and it clanged against another and fell over, but after seconds of cringing no one came.

The drugs still in him blurred his vision, made everything dip and twist like he was dancing and spinning so fast. He collided against the wall and the door - the latter so hard he fell to the ground clutching his closed up ribs - before he was able to get the door open. His fingers were sweaty and when he glanced down there was red there, red on the door handle and red on the wall as he trailed a path down the hallway. He ducked into a room at the sound of voices and then ducked back out and moved on. He needed to find an office and make a call.

Alec realized just how damn lucky he was when found one. He lunged for the cell phone on the desk and thought about sinking back against the wall. Instead he closed the blinds and found a corner at the back of the office to stand in. It was habit even after all this time to pace, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had been up and walking around, but he was barely keeping himself upright so he stood in place and shivered.

He couldn’t remember warmth either, or hands that weren’t meant to harm, or a shower or a warm bed that would be heaven on his aching back. The number was still there just like the color… the _name_ , both creeping around in the back of his mind. They hadn’t been able to take those things away from him; Alec grinned. His bloody fingers slipped over the keys but he managed to dial the number before it slunk away to hide again, for safekeeping.

There was one ring and then nothing. By the second ring Alec’s heart was thundering so loudly in his chest - he was amazed it was still there after _all this time_ \- and he started getting dizzy, forgetting how to breathe.

And then no more ringing.

“Who the fuck is this?” And god, he _knew_ that voice. Had to because the number was still there. _White._ A last name. No first. White would be mad when he heard that, Alec remembered _that_ much.

Now that the moment had come, now that the end was _actually_ in sight he found he couldn’t do more than open his mouth and strain to get words out. His lips formed around the words: _It_ _’s me_ , yet not so much as a squeak exited. Then again, what the hell was _It_ _’s me_ \- would White even recognize his voice or would those be the only words the transgenic could get out only to lead to nothing?

He tried for one word then, straining his throat before the Familiar hung up the phone. “White.”

The reaction was instantaneous.

“Alec?” The concern there was jarring; he remembered that this White wasn’t much one for worrying about things. And he knew the ice cold shock twisting and turning in his veins meant that it was a miracle there was someone on the other end of the line at all. “Where the hell are you?”

He swallowed several times until he found his voice. “Dunno. Drugged me. Can’t… remember much.” He hung his head in shame.

“Can you stay on the phone? Tracking you….” A long pause. It started to slip away where Alec was, what he was _doing._ That wasn’t good. “But it’ll take another forty seconds.”

Alec nodded, mostly to see if his head still worked the way he wanted it to. “Hold on?” White said something but Alec didn’t hear it, bending over the edge of the desk and throwing up. Some of it he got on himself but he couldn’t help it, nor could he do anything much about being quiet. He put the phone to his ear again, the salty taste of blood in his mouth a welcome reminder of where he was. “Okay.”

“Jesus, Alec. What the fuck are they doing to you in there?”

“Fuckers drugged me and put something in me. Or….” He whimpered and panted, chest tightening, “Maybe… took something out. Stitches…,” he breathed heavily. He couldn’t even remember what the guy looked like yet he wanted nothing more than White looming over him, watching him with those dark eyes he found sexy. “Stitches in my chest. Kept on opening them up. Putting them back together.” Something was pressing in on him then and the hand that wasn’t holding the phone to his throbbing ear tore open the stitches in his abdomen with his bare hand, leaving the ones at his upper chest alone… for now. He needed to feel _something_ in him again.

Warm blood gushed out around his hand, coating it in that warmth. Soon it would be cold but not now, now he was in control, had something to _cling_ to. He breathed harder, feeling his legs start to tremble.

White must have thought he was having a panic attack. “Just take it easy. Few more seconds, Alec.”

 _Fuck,_ he _loved_ it when the guy said his name. It made his knees go all weak, except it probably wasn’t from that. _Ames._ That was it, right? He fucking _remembered._ “Ames, I’m sorry.”

Ames cursed and Alec could practically hear him pacing on the other end. He wondered why the guy wasn’t yelling at him for using his first name. Yes, Alec grinned, he remembered that too. Alec could hardly help it, especially since that was the name he used in his head now. He remembered now that when he was pissed off he used White, but most of the time before this he hadn’t been pissed off anymore.

“Got it!” Ames hung up the phone and Alec shuddered, curling in on himself, sinking to the floor while he could at least control it.

Ames didn’t have a chance. He should’ve just hung up the phone.

* * *

 

Alec woke to murmuring and fingers curling idly against his chest. That was the first sign that he wasn’t in that _place_ anymore. Still, he flinched at the contact and allowed his eyes to open on their own time. Even though the light was dim in the room a headache throbbed just behind his eyes, and his vision swam sickeningly before it adjusted. Ames stared down at him, eyes huge in his face and startled and pissed off too, though Alec could see the worry in them.

“Belly’s a mess,” White said, apologetically. “Could only do so much.”

Alec nodded. He held back the sob at the sound of Ames’ voice, at the familiar feel of his fingers ghosting along his ravaged skin. He wanted to feel whole again, wanted Ames’ dick in him, riding him and claiming him, snarling at Alec that the transgenic was his and no one else’s. Yet when he thought about moving he immediately became nauseated.

That was when he realized someone else was in the room. He turned his head, though his face scrunched up in pain and his eyes slipped shut before he could see who it was. His fingers were tingling; his wasn’t the first time he had woken up to someone else in the room. The last time there had been a gun pointed at Ames, the look in White’s eyes as he sat there revealing that he was resigned to it, over it all already.

That had pissed Alec off. To know that the transgenic would be left behind, Ames’ mess, that Ames couldn’t even give him one last goddamn word.

Ames seemed to know what he wanted now. “One of my friends helped out. Otto, can you give us a sec?” The sound of a door closing and Ames adjusting his weight on the bed. It was funny in a way because it was all moving so fast for Alec now. Before it had been slow and it had pulled at him, _ached_ physically, now it was like nothing had happened at all and they were moving on step after step after step. Alec wanted to scream at White to slow down, or at least shout it indignantly to try to get some of his pride back. “You hungry?”

His stomach grumbled painfully at the thought, but the hunger was so far gone that it would hurt more to give into it. He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten, couldn’t remember what it felt like to chew and swallow, or the caress of liquid on his tongue. Liquid that wasn’t his own blood. He swallowed but there wasn’t much saliva in his throat. “Not so much.”

White stared at him for a long minute. Alec tolerated it because it slowed things down, because all that time he had wanted Ames’ eyes on him again, the telltale sign that he was safe. _Home._ “What the fuck did they do to you, Alec?”

“I don’t know.” His hand curled and his knuckles mashed into his eye. Water accumulated there, trickling down the side of his hand, dampening his cheek. He closed his eyes against his hand, not wanting to feel anymore. “I don’t _fucking_ know. I don’t even know who _they_ are. They drugged me, made me forget things. It comes back sometimes, when I’m sleeping. _Tired._ Let me sleep,” he begged. He’d beg for this as long as he had to. He hadn’t been able to sleep in that place, hadn’t been able to do anything but sit there. Waiting hadn’t even been a factor before he had slipped out of the restraints: he never once thought the Familiar would come for him.

He didn’t know where he had been.

Alec must have spaced out for a few minutes at best; that guy he vaguely recognized was in the room again. Ames was still there too, perking up when his eyes caught Alec’s. The look jolted the transgenic because it was like White was staring right through him, though not on purpose. There was so much in that one look: worry that blended into panic and frustration that morphed into near anger and the idea that Alec had been nothing and was now some sort of monster because of what they had _done_ to him.

He trembled at the genuine shock written all over the Familiar’s face, seen in the deep lines in his forehead and the tight hunch of his shoulders. It frightened Alec then at how fragile he must look in the man’s eyes. Ames had never been frightened before, not even when a gun had been pointed at him. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” His voice was a mere tremor in Alec’s consciousness, almost like he was sliding back into dreams.

“Tired,” Alec muttered, wondering if Ames would let him get away with it again.

Ames shook his head, firm yet not harsh. Maybe Alec could. “You gotta tell me what’s going on.”

As if he cared, except…. Alec already knew it wasn’t Manticore who had taken him: first they had asked for their dirty little secrets and then their “procedures” were amateurish at best. It could have been the Familiars, yet Alec doubted they would show that much interest in a freak like him. They had been all too ready to shoot the two of them anyway, so why the hell would they play around with the transgenic’s head and on top of that his anatomy? And maybe White had only got him out of there because he was worried just how much Alec was going to say, even though whoever _they_ were stopped asking him questions after a point. Still, he never gave up a damn thing… that he knew of.

“Not getting back to you,” he reassured, wondering when the hell he had gotten to the point of comforting Ames freaking White. “They don’t know about you, don’t know where you are.” They had never asked about good ol’ White. Just wanted to know about Alec and after a point, didn’t care about that either. It was just Alec’s body they dipped their knife into, like slipping downward into butter, Alec’s throat so hoarse it choked on a scream, blood escaping to the edges of him and pooling under his back. It was just Alec’s head they stuck their greedy little fingers into, manipulating wires, yanking on nerves, molding distinct memories together until they made no sense, erasing the rest.

There were huge gaps there… things he couldn’t remember.

Maybe he had forgotten so much about Ames after all. Everything that mattered and didn’t matter at the same time.

Ames seemed not to have noticed the route Alec’s thoughts took him. Alec hoped he hadn’t noticed the blood under his fingernails, the fact that he had dug through his stitches in the desire to feel something squirming inside him, filling the hole. He hoped that Ames didn’t know he would have to do it again. _Soon._

“Well, that’s a goddamn relief.”

“Didn’t tell them,” Alec repeated. The twinge in his abdomen was nearing to the point of unbearable but his chest even more so. Something had to give. The stitches were itching, trying to hold something inside him that shouldn’t be there. Ames should have never stitched him up, should’ve just let him _bleed out_ into half-remembered memory. 

Ames got up then, facing the door and the other man who smelled too strongly of aftershave. In a stupid attempt for some semblance of familiarity, Alec’s hand reached for White’s. A goddamn color, a _face_ , that was all he had had and _still,_ it had weighed heavier than _everything_ else _._ “Wait. Don’t go.” He could echo what he had said so long ago: _Don_ _’t leave until I’m asleep._ Something like that. Now he just didn’t want him to leave at all. That desperation overruled everything: his pride, his self-preservation, _everything._ He could ask how long it had been too, but some things one was better off not knowing.

A murmured, “Boss.”

White wasn’t looking at the transgenic; Alec didn’t expect it. “I’m screwed,” Alec admitted. “But you should tell me to stay.” Ames’ forehead crinkled, lines becoming more prominent. Not even Alec really knew what the hell he was talking about but he wanted to _stay._ His head turned to the side and fell against his chest, too heavy to hold up anymore. “Tired.”

His eyes were closed, yet there was a dip in the bed below. “I know.”

“Let me sleep.” A hand closed over his eyes, shielding the faint light, and Alec fell down into the sweetly singing darkness.

* * *

 

 _~I guess I_ _’m an underwater thing_

 _So I guess I can_ _’t take it personally_

 _I guess I_ _’m an underwater thing, liquid running_

 _There_ _’s a sea secret in me_

 _It_ _’s plain to see and it is rising_

_But I must be flowing liquid diamonds, liquid, liquid diamonds~ (Liquid Diamonds - Tori Amos)_

* * *

 

His belly was bruised flesh, mottled with stitches and scars and the imprints of fingerprints. If those traces of fingerprints were Ames’ it wouldn’t have mattered, if the bruises were from Ames’ hands then Alec wouldn’t look twice at them.

Yet he looked twice at them now because they _weren_ _’t_ , looked three times and four times and again _and again and again_ until he was sick. He was damaged goods and White flitted around him like he was a torn up butterfly.

Like none of it was his fault.

It had to be; Alec couldn’t accept otherwise.

* * *

 

It was White who sometimes put him in the bath, if Alec was too tired to walk. Or he would fall asleep in the tub and wake up in bed, hair still damp but tucked in, Ames fingering a pack of cigarettes as he paced in front of the window. He wondered if White used to smoke before all this but never asked; now he would sneak in a cigarette whenever he could. Sometimes he would smoke in the bathroom too, and Alec would annoy him by claiming he was hogging all the hot water even though there wasn’t any. He would make Ames leave so he could take his place and White would let him. The guy would help him stand up and towel Alec off when he was done, and then he would leave Alec to rummage through the mostly empty refrigerator. Alec would yell at Ames a little more, ask him what the hell a guy was supposed to eat around here, and if Ames was in the mood he would snipe back at him, light a cigarette and pull out the newspaper he had read a dozen times already.

Since when had they fallen into this domestic routine? 

Things started to get better for a little while, but it never stayed. A few days of being up on his feet and looking through the paper for job postings led inevitably to three more days of being bedridden, so exhausted he couldn’t make his limbs work, so empty - that hole still in his stomach - that he couldn’t see the point of anything anymore.

Ames hung around like it was his business to. Sometimes Alec would wake up to find him fingering the bar code at the back of his neck, as if trying to rationalize something in his head. It should have been creepy, it should have been a lot of things other than _nice_. If White could stand to look at that part of him that meant he had changed, at least somewhat. And Alec had too.

That meant he wasn’t leaving.

“X5-494.” Alec jerked awake, chest heaving from the memory. Ames’ thumb was resting on the back of his neck, its coldness making Alec shudder under the sheets _someone_ had covered him up with. “Who the hell gave you a name like Alec anyway?”

Alec licked his lips, swore he could taste blood. Consciousness always drifted in slowly these days, and maybe that was why the Familiar didn’t try anything. It wasn’t like Alec could do anything about it, wasn’t like he’d be able to figure out what the hell was going on until a good five minutes after the fact, and that just sucked the fun out of everything. He slowly registered Ames pressed up against his back, one arm slung lazily around his waist. The warmth of that hand filled the hole, filled it up with something Alec couldn’t hope to keep.

He recalled the memory. “Max did.” He smiled, dried lips cracking and a trickle of blood licked away by his tongue. “Smart-Alec.”

Ames hummed but didn’t say anything about it.

The transgenic wondered where this trust came from. He supposed he just had to get used to White when he was healing before _they_ took him, but never in his life did he imagine he wouldn’t freak out with Ames’ arm around him and his breath tickling the hair at the nape of Alec’s neck. It was warm and comfortable and _safe_ , but how the hell had it gotten to be that way? Had he just let go of everything?

“Why the hell didn’t you stay at that Transgenic City?”

Alec frowned. According to the bigger picture, the place hadn’t suited him. He had always thought he was made for bigger and better things. This might not be considered better, or even bigger in the grand scheme of things, but Alec figured he could settle for nice. It wasn’t about being the Familiar’s prisoner anymore, it was more about the fact that he wanted to stay, had nowhere else to go anyway. “Wasn’t my gig.”

There was also the fact that he couldn’t remember exactly what had caused him to leave, and maybe it was too much to hope that this was the only missing piece.

Ames’ warm hand cupped his ass, leading to something stirring up inside Alec and _god,_ he hadn’t gotten off in _so long._ White’s hand wandered next, searching, teasing, like he was actively enjoying it. “And this is?” He practically purred into Alec’s ear.

Alec already knew the answer, he just didn’t want to say it unless it was a chant in his head: _Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes._

The transgenic hated to but he yawned. He was still sleepy, always was, and the thought of soaking in a bath with Ames sounded like heaven. Ames sighed against him, hand stilling, teeth nibbling on Alec’s earlobe. Alec grabbed his hand on a whim and placed it over his chest, willing him to feel the hole there. He _had_ to be able to sense that emptiness _inside._

“Fill me up.”

Ames growled into his ear, “With pleasure.”

The Familiar was ravenous and rough but not in a way that hurt. He teased Alec until he was begging as far as his hoarse throat would allow him and then Ames was pounding into him, red marks on Alec’s ass, lungs occasionally pulling in frantic bursts of air. He lingered in Alec for a while after the third thorough fucking, pulling out when Alec squirmed and started coughing against his neck. He was infinitely gentle then, not that he hadn’t been before. He pulled Alec upright and held him there, allowing Alec to suck in lungfuls of air until he was dizzy.

Alec realized two things then. One: he would do anything Ames wanted him to do. Two: Alec was happy, a happiness that wasn’t meant to last.

_Fill me up._

_I_ _’m so empty._

* * *

 

The water felt good on his muscles. It was amazingly soft and easy on his skin, and it was such a thin layer that separated Alec from the rest of the world. Alec needed that, needed to lose himself in something that wouldn’t take him, that would let him back up easy again. There were only two places in the world where the transgenic felt safe now: in Ames’ arms and in the bath. The former was preferred but rare, only “special” occasions, when Ames was in the mood. Still, Alec always felt close to the Familiar when he was soaking.

Ames was out, probably to get food, so Alec didn’t have to put up with the Familiar telling him to get his scrawny ass out of the bath. He laid there for a long time, waiting for White to come back just so he could roll his eyes and dry Alec off. Sometimes he faked the dizziness just so he could have Ames’ hands on him; couldn’t blame a guy when he didn’t have much else going for him. He smiled and slipped further down, the bubbles long since dissipated and the ice cold water crystal clear.

Alec slipped under, just for a minute. He wanted to feel the water washing over his face, wanted to see the world above through that thin veil.

He closed his eyes just like that, moments later feeling pressure on his chest: a hand. The transgenic opened his eyes and saw Ames just past the water, so far up where Alec couldn’t reach him. Except, he didn’t feel… trapped. He was safe here in this cocoon, right under the surface of the water, Ames’ hand holding him down. As if the hand weren’t enough to hold him down there were those eyes too. The smile in them. Alec couldn’t feel the emptiness down here, couldn’t feel much of anything except warmth and the certainty that everything would be fine if he _just let go._

So he detached. His breathing slowed, eyes becoming heavy and lidded. If Ames was _right here_ then it meant this was the best option. He could escape where no one could find him except _Ames_. He could feel _full_ just like this all the time now, no more stalling.

The hand clenched and the world slid out of place.

His body responded to the cold and sudden motion immediately, jerking in the arms that held him, every limb - every _piece_ \- of him trembling. His body tore at itself until the stitches were pulled taut and ripped out of place, the sickness slithering around inside him creeping deeper, making Alec groan in agony.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” White screamed. Alec vaguely wondered why the hell the guy had a change of heart until the words tumbled together and he could no longer form them into the question they had been. “How the fuck did I get stuck with a freak like you, huh?” The tone was sharp but not unkind; it was almost teasing. It didn’t matter because Alec couldn’t hold onto it, as much as he may have wanted to. A rough towel was wrapped around his shoulders but Alec was already gone. He sagged against the Familiar, nothing but a shell left.

The warmth couldn’t touch him anymore.

* * *

 

Things changed.

Ames didn’t have exactly the reaction Alec imagined him to have. For one, White didn’t pack up his imaginary possessions except for a few clothes and books on golf and leave. For another, he didn’t put Alec on suicide watch either. Both the transgenic was eternally grateful for, yet it was also odd to watch White acting like nothing had happened and everything was just proceeding as fucked up as it had been before.

Alec had yet to tell him _anything_. He didn’t know how in the hell to broach the topic of memory loss, one reason was because he wasn’t sure _if_ he had lost anything involving the guy. It felt odd to be around him but Alec knew it always had, that their relationship was the last possible thing that ever should have happened. He also knew that what he had with Ames didn’t feel as strange as he wanted it to be, it was familiar and nice and that either meant he was missing memories where they worked everything the fuck out or wasn’t missing anything at all and that was why White wasn’t walking on eggshells around him.

Either way, White withheld everything he could possibly withhold: cuddling, reading, _sex._ He wouldn’t touch Alec even to help him get out of the bath, always ate when Alec wasn’t in the room, and Alec never caught him staring either. It was like Ames was giving him the silent treatment, except it was more like the cold treatment because Ames would still bark orders at him.

It was gut-churning because the guy _did_ care. He just didn’t know what to do about it anymore.

Alec didn’t see any way out - he couldn’t kill himself and have the guy live with the fact that he might’ve been able to stop it now that Ames knew what Alec was capable of; and he couldn’t leave because he’d probably collapse on his ass and get captured and tortured again, if not by _them_ then by government goons or Ames’ freaky Familiar family - so he got pissed. He made Ames take the bed on the threat that he refused to sleep in it and that if Ames didn’t they would be wasting money. He always ate the bare minimum and gave the rest to White because the guy had a voracious appetite and Alec hated getting the bigger portions just because he had been sick and was still sick and even more fucked up than before and _fuck it all._ He stubbornly refused to get out of the tub and repeatedly told Ames that he wasn’t tired or hungry.

He got pissed and it pissed Ames off but the Familiar never threatened to leave. Sure, Alec was a liability who would get him killed, but it didn’t seem to matter to good ol’ White.

So… things changed.

Ames got a job.

The guy hated it, but in a tiny town it was either pump gas or wait on tables, and neither of them could picture Ames White taking orders and plopping dishes down on their respective tables. Alec didn’t mind, not the blue shirt and blue jeans nor the smell of gasoline nearly entirely overpowering his usual lemony-ish scent. He didn’t mind a lot of things lately, not even that Ames sometimes still lost his temper and exploded at him, throwing things around and looking like he was about to throw Alec a punch or two, even though he never did. He didn’t mind that Ames woke him up some nights, cursing under his breath, TV on with the volume low and shooting Alec with an accusing glare, telling him to ‘go back to sleep.’ And he didn’t mind when Ames wanted to be alone either, even when Alec especially didn’t want to be while he was alone in the apartment all day and having recurrent nightmares.

The only thing he did mind was Ames itching to leave and move on.

At least Ames had gotten him a phone, which stared expectantly back at him for most of the day. He remembered calling Ames in that office, bloodied fingers slipping and sliding over the keys and being so sure that he wouldn’t be able to press them. He had dreamed about White finding him, careful fingers tidying up the mess of his stomach, bloodied thumb brushing over Alec’s pallid cheek.

Ames screaming at him to wake up.

The phone picked up on the third ring, audible click reverberating through Alec’s entire body. White already seemed to know it was him, and Alec swore to tell him one day that he could feel Ames too. Or maybe Ames just had no one else to call him. “Told you not to call me at work. We can’t waste the minutes on your phone.”

Alec’s other hand clasped the phone. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“Well, you heard it. Hanging up now.”

Alec let him. He let Ames hog the bed and covers at night, squishing Alec to one side, and he let Ames bark orders at him and tell him his cooking sucked even though it consisted of only heating up a can of soup, because he knew he didn’t really mean it, none of it.

He woke up one night, Ames sitting up on his side of the bed, on the phone with someone, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “No, I... don’t think I’m ready yet. Think I’m gonna stick around here for a while.”

 _Coming around after all,_ Alec thought, and he slipped back down into sleep.

Still, Ames worked.

Apparently, the transgenic had driven him away in that respect. He sat around the apartment all day doing nothing: sulking, pouting, regretting pissing White off so much even if he had enjoyed it and the guy had it coming. He looked for jobs in the newspapers Ames left behind and made calls to try to set up something but everything failed. Ames was gone for hours and hours now and it was too weird, not having him there twenty-four seven. Maybe it was a dare to get it over with, that if Alec wanted to kill himself so much that now he had plenty of hours to do it.

But Alec didn’t.

He couldn’t eat and couldn’t sleep and couldn’t find a fucking job.

So one day he wasn’t there.

* * *

 

Portland - or the remnants of Portland - was cold this time of year. Alec didn’t have any clothes save for his bloodied tee and a ridiculously holey pair of jeans Ames had acquired for him somewhere. At least he had a pair of sneakers so he didn’t have to look completely ridiculous in sandals or go barefoot. He walked aimlessly for a while, his stomach rumbling at the idea of food even though the thought of chewing and swallowing it down made him feel nauseated.

He thought about going back to Terminal City but the notion scared him more than helped. He couldn’t remember why the hell he had left, if he had been kicked out, if something had happened…. No, there were plenty of other places for him to go. At least White could make a fresh start without Alec dragging him down.

Alec had at least left a note on the nightstand. It was easier to say what he wanted to say when he wouldn’t ever have to face the guy again. He pitied the Familiar for quite possibly having a heart attack upon seeing it and coming to the conclusion that it was a suicide note, even though it wasn’t. _Probably should_ _’ve put that first,_ Alec chuckled darkly. Except… who was he kidding? No tears would be shed. Ames would only move on.

_White,_

_Couldn_ _’t tell you then but they made me forget your first name in there. All I had was a freaking color that I knew was a name that - you know what? Never mind. There’s a lot of shit I can’t tell you because you probably don’t give a damn. Even if you did it would probably freak you the fuck out and it’s just better this way._

 _And I_ _’m sorry about what I tried. Told you I was screwed but you didn’t deserve that. I just don’t feel like myself anymore, you know? You probably don’t. I just feel empty. Like there’s this gaping hole in me and it keeps getting bigger. And I can’t remember things because they took shit._

 _I_ _’m leaving because I give a damn about you. Because I love you so fucking much I can’t stand to get you dead._

 _So you_ _’ve probably realized by now that this isn’t a suicide note. At least, not in the literal sense. Doubt that we’ll ever meet up again though._

_Have a good life - Ames._

_Alec_

* * *

 

_~It was you who could get me high_

_With whatever you say, you_ _’re telling me something real_

 _What we do, it doesn_ _’t matter now_

_Whatever it takes for you to stay with me~ (Caught in the Rain - Revis)_

* * *

 

The coffee shop was dead for the most part, only two tables occupied. Still, Alec was careful to sit far enough away from the window that he wouldn’t be seen by someone walking by. It was foolish to spend a portion of his last twenty bucks on a cup of coffee, but Alec reasoned well-enough that he needed a pick-me-up in order to get his head on straight and go through with this.

 _Go through with what? With hightailing it out of Ames_ _’ fucked up life?_

That other pesky side of Alec tried whole-heartedly to convince him that Ames could do a helluva lot worse than him, that the transgenic gave him a distraction from his wife and his missing kid, but Alec wasn’t having it. Ames could try to pull together some semblance of a life without him. Hell, Ames could do _better_ than him too. There was no longer that taped haphazardly together string of lies that he didn’t give a damn about the guy, ‘cause he did, and it wasn’t just because Ames had saved his life either. _Multiple_ freaking times.

Alec ran a hand through his hair, ordered his cup and sat down, curling in on himself but nonetheless continuing to keep an eye on his surroundings. The liquid through the cheap paper cup burned through to his hand, scalding it, but even though Alec registered the pain there was nothing more than that. If anything he curled his hand tighter around the cup, half-relieved and the other half worried that he could only somewhat feel the heat. Not enough for him to do anything about it. 

He ignored the chill sting of emptiness washing through his gut and simultaneously blocked Ames’ hand as it ran down his back or his thumb as it smoothed over Alec’s bar code, acknowledging it yet not showing disgust. Alec could have thanked him for that, could have thanked him for a lot of things, but that was what the letter was for. Because every time Alec tried to say something he fucked it up. He either bled all over Ames’ excuse to put his life on hold for the transgenic or demanded things that both of them knew he could never get.

Alec’s fingernail swiped over the bar code. He wasn’t even _real_ technically. If _they_ had erased him, whoever _they_ were, then it would have been just that, he couldn’t have counted on or even wanted Ames to hold onto those memories of him. At least the Familiar had been born and left alone to grow up before being brainwashed.

X5-494’s own life was a tangle of orders and tests and Manticore brainwashing him at the first sign of a fuck-up. Max hadn’t even been his family for long before he realized that he needed to get the hell away. He needed to be alone.

And what a sorry ass lie that had been.

Alec stopped picking at his bar code and went up to pay for the coffee, which would have gone smoothly if the guy behind the counter hadn’t held up a hand. “Coffee’s free,” he told him.

Alec looked up from scrounging in his pockets for bills. “Who?”

There was a tilt of the head to point out someone behind him and Alec tensed. Out of habit he had mentally made note of all the exits as soon as he had entered the building, but that didn’t mean he was in any shape to take on whoever the hell knew him. He was no match for a Familiar like this, he technically wouldn’t be even if he _was_ at full-mast. And if government goons were after him then they had weapons. Weapons > still slow as hell Alec and with no weapons to even try to even the odds.

“Get him another cup.”

He didn’t believe it.

Alec turned and caught sight of _him_ at a seat by the window, in full view of anyone who decided to walk down the street at that particular moment. At least Alec had sat far enough away from the window. The instinct to protect surged up from within and he wanted to drag White down to the floor, but he was frozen in place at the sight of him. Ames wasn’t in his work clothes but in a suit and tie, hair mussed and lips so pink and moist and Alec’s dick would have gone instantly hard if not for the fact that his wiring wasn’t what it used to be. White’s hand was wrapped around a paper coffee cup and he was looking at Alec like it was the most perfectly normal thing in the world.

 _How the fuck did he find me?_ But - _oh, this_ is _Ames fucking_ White.

At the physical proof Alec’s entire body relaxed, sagging against the counter slightly as the guy behind the counter busied himself with pouring Alec another cup. God, he was tired. He was goddamn tired of _everything._ Ames’ hand clenched around his coffee cup and he made a move to stand, and the transgenic saw in his eyes then what he had missed all along: White was protective of him too. There was anger and determination in his eyes, a lethal combination, and Alec would have been scared if he knew beyond a doubt that it wasn’t directed toward him, but those who had taken him and hurt him.

That look was warm and cold at the same time. That look wanted to kill for Alec, wanted to crush him into a bone-crunching embrace too.

He couldn’t go over there, he couldn’t make this real. He didn’t want Ames to die for him.

The transgenic stared at the second cup of coffee as it was pushed toward him, fingering the bills in his pocket. _Wouldn_ _’t have gotten far_ , he berated himself. _And had Ames read the note or not?_

It didn’t matter: Ames was at his back then, one hand wrapping around Alec effortlessly. The heat in the Familiar was amazing, and Alec remembered how strong he was. There was no longer the delusion that he was stronger than Ames, it was the other way around, and for so long Alec had fought against it but now he _liked it._ The transgenic surrendered and leaned against him, letting Ames take his cup and lead him over to the table. Alec was tired and _cold_ , and Ames took off his suit jacket without a word and wrapped it around his shoulders before he took the seat across from him. Alec raised an eyebrow.

“Storage place not far from here,” Ames explained. Alec had to admit, the jacket was warm as it enveloped his back and shoulders. Not to mention it smelled like Ames, so it was kinda hard not to burrow into. Ames’ pride could have led him to put that suit on, yet there had to be another reason.

Alec licked his cracked, bleeding lips. “You read the note?” White didn’t so much as nod; leave it to him to be infuriating sometimes. Alec knew the answer was _yes_. He nodded, hands wrapping around the hot cup. “Why the hell’d you come after me then? I’m a time bomb.”

Ames growled. “You’re _my_ time bomb. I don’t get to leave? You don’t get to leave. You’re gonna wake the fuck up right here, _right now._ _”_ Alec didn’t know what that entailed, didn’t think he _wanted_ to know what it entailed. He didn’t answer, wondering if his silence still pissed Ames off or if he had just gotten used to listening to only himself. Alec took a prolonged sip of the coffee, trying to make it spread throughout his aching belly and failing.

It wasn’t beyond him that it had taken everything for the Familiar to come here, and even more to show affection in public when it was rare even _away_ from curious eyes. It still didn’t help that Alec felt like he was being dissected by Ames’ gaze, even if it wasn’t _mostly_ judgmental.

He shivered at the thought of the letter. He had told the guy he loved him for _fuck_ _’s sake._

Ames’ fingers brushed against his own, which were wrapped around the coffee cup and trembling despite the heat of a fresh cup. Alec glanced up in alarm and caught the sure sign of his eyes melting. Alec had been so sure Ames would be unaffected, even angry, but not _this_ , whatever _this_ was. “I set up an appointment with a friend of mine.”

Alec startled at the tone, calm and sure. He swallowed and pulled his hand away, heart jumping in his chest at the sight of White’s frown, more at the fact that he had put it there. Months of pushing Alec away and he should have deserved it, but Alec was the farthest thing from spiteful anymore. “You think they put something in me?”

White nodded. “I think that’s why you haven’t been feeling like yourself. And we’ll fix it.”

Alec looked down at the table. He felt ashamed to be unable to meet Ames’ eyes, but the guy showing up like this had been too much for his battered system to handle. He just had to be confident that White wouldn’t fly off at the handle with Alec’s signs of disinterest when all he really was _was_ interested. “And if we don’t?” He didn’t think about telling Ames that the emptiness had started before then, when Ames’ Familiar friends had shot him. There wasn’t much of a point. It had something to do with _him_ and nothing else, and he didn’t want Ames to have to put up with a mental case.

“Then _we_ _’ll_ handle it.”

 _As in killing me. Or, I_ _’ll do it myself._ Ames had done enough.

Alec downed the rest of the coffee and stared outside the window. The shop was now empty save for them and so were the streets. He didn’t turn his head back to Ames, which made him feel like an ungrateful ass. “Can I have another cup?”

He felt bad about that too.

* * *

 

Ames was different from that point on. The guy was like a goddamn chameleon with how often he changed, making Alec’s head spin, but he seemed to know what the transgenic wanted and pushed and pushed like _he_ wanted it too.

He called Alec on the phone like they were some married couple that had been through more than any married couple should have to. Even despite his eight hour shift he called Alec at least twice if not more, and the transgenic never had to feign surprise once. The pay increased after a couple weeks and White started bringing home decent food and an array of magazines which kept Alec somewhat occupied throughout the long days. His head started to clear up after the first doctor’s visit, and he wondered whether that was what the placebo effect was, that Ames having hope equated to Alec having it too. That somehow, that hope had healed whatever was wrong with him. 

Fat chance of that.

It didn’t much matter. The only thing that mattered was that Ames was happy, the average nine-to-five job was paying better than expected and he could breathe easier when someone else was looking after Alec, being a doctor or Otto, the latter who came by sometimes to make sure Alec hadn’t died yet. The guy was nice enough, but Alec couldn’t hold back the thought of once again being a prisoner. It wasn’t White’s fault, he just wanted to make sure Alec was okay, it was whatever the fuck was _wrong_ with Alec.

Sometimes he got so frustrated and so disgusted with himself that it was all he could do not to pull his hair out. He stared at the pale, tattered remains of his body in the mirror, missing his once muscled yet lithe figure. He was severely underweight now, so thin and gaunt he looked more like a ghost than a human.

And he wasn’t even human _technically_ ; that thought never escaped him.

Body issues were the last thing he needed, but they haunted him regardless. He wasted hours trying to get up the nerve to unwrap Ames’ arm from around his waist as they shared the bed during the night, but it was pointless trying to hide his badly scarred belly from the Familiar, even more pointless trying to stop Ames from touching him. He washed Alec’s body in the shower or the bath, ignoring Alec’s demands turned pleas that he do it himself. He ran his hands up and down Alec’s body in bed too, never seeming to tire of it. Every time they fucked, Alec turned his head but Ames was always watching him, making a mental note of his every scar and freckle, as if Alec wasn’t made to last and his expiration date was up.

That didn’t matter either, because at least Ames cared enough _to look._

He thought about Ames too, all damn day, about getting him killed, reliving it in his nightmares until he could no longer distinguish truth from masked fantasy. He tried to think about what the ordinaries always claimed home to be: a place where you had your best memories, a place where you felt safe and loved, a place you could always go back to in your head if not in real time.

Details were starting to come back.

For Alec, Manticore had been little more than a prison and simultaneous battleground. It had been all he had known until Max had broken him out, along with his brothers and sisters, but the adventures with Max and Logan had changed him in ways not even he could have imagined. Manticore had never been his family, not by a long shot, not even Max and her gang had been family. Sure, he missed Josh, missed his paintings and his annoying ‘medium fella’ nickname for him and his hovering over Alec and asking him if he was alright. He hadn’t said goodbye, just a ‘catch you on the flip side,’ and he regretted that now.

He had left them expecting to find some better life, and instead he had found _this._ He still didn’t know what _this_ was. 

Alec could get used to _this_.

The more Alec started to remember things that had been taken from him, the more that Ames helped him to rebuild by just exuding all that patience and even love that the transgenic _knew_ he would never be able to fully understand coming from the Familiar or accept. 

He could try though: Alec could go to every appointment that Ames wanted him to, he could feign hope until it bled out of his every pore, he could pretend that things would work when Ames’ once family and the government were hunting them down every damn day. He could let Ames take care of him and know that he was doing everything he could.

The more Alec was poked and prodded the more minutes stretched into hours and hours into days; the more Alec found himself curled up in bed, shivering in the dark; the more Alec convinced himself that he was dying and he wanted more than anything for Ames not to have to watch it.

But he was watching it, every single second of it, and it wasn’t long before Alec fevered for what felt like _weeks._  

Ames took off so many days from work he lost his job. He didn’t complain about it and Alec didn’t know exactly how long it took to put together the pieces that that was what happened, but even though he knew White hated that place he still felt bad about it. It wasn’t Ames’ job to take care of him, and it wasn’t his destiny either. Not that Alec believed in that destiny shit, but he knew White was supposed to be with his freaky Conclave and hunting his ass down, not catering to him twenty-four seven.

That was when Alec started to think about _other_ things too, like if he hadn’t left Terminal City he would be just fine. Dying for food, a decent bed, a shower and some goddamn alone time, sure, but still… _alive._

He started to think that maybe he had been a coward to the cause, and maybe that was why he left. That didn’t sit right in him either.

Technically this… _this_ wasn’t living. This was drifting by, starved for touch and begging for numbness, riding on the waves of disillusionment and having more than a little difficulty determining the difference between hallucination White and real White. Moreover, if White started snarling at him again then his brain would interpret that as _real_ White because he was _supposed_ to be that way, even though the transgenic knew better.

At least there was always Ames White _somewhere:_ in his dreams, when he was awake. He just had to look hard enough.

Something had broken in Ames too, somewhere along the line. He wasn’t supposed to _love_ Alec, not even if he was dying. He was supposed to be cheering on whoever did this to him and locking the transgenic up in some basement to rot. He wasn’t supposed to be changing the sheets periodically and fluffing the pillows and reading to Alec out of some boring ass golf book like some good husband would do.

They didn’t have much left after the job fell through and they had to move to an even _smaller_ apartment, but they had enough to get by for a while. Alec was too sick most of the time to eat, so little money for food was barely a thought, and the transgenic could barely tell the difference between cold and hot water, so he doubted the difference between a soft bed and cold, hard concrete much mattered, even though Ames never kicked him out of bed. Alec wasted the days drifting in and out of consciousness and listening to the leaky faucet in the bathroom, which he could hear even with the door closed. It reminded him too much of his own blood dripping down onto the metal table as he had been forced upright.

There were scenes from the ‘beloved’ Terminal City mixed in with the hellish ones from that torture chamber, ones all too distinct from Manticore but surprisingly kinda worse, unless _they_ had taken the worst parts from Manticore. He remembered the feel of blood in between his fingers, tucked into spots he never thought it could reach. Sometimes he couldn’t tell it apart from the moment when Ames pointed the gun at him and Alec had mistakenly believed for the first few seconds that the guy had shot him. Sometimes he thought that again, when his brain short-circuited and the fact that he couldn’t move his arms seemed more like being tied to the bed than a sickness that he couldn’t understand.

The faucet kept him up for a while before Alec started to accept it as his own personal time clock ticking down. And then the steady reverberation… _time bomb time bomb time bomb._

Ames tried to fix it but gave up after he flooded the bathroom. Alec got pissed sometimes that he had given up before Ames, until he realized that it hadn’t been his choice. His bloody, torn consciousness clung onto that damn coffee shop more than it did the reality he was meant to seize. Cracks started to form in the windows, spreading to Alec’s chest and then tilting onto Ames, fragmenting his face until the only thing Alec had left to grasp was the coffee scalding his fingers.

He was always afraid to spill it; his own blood spurted out from once closed veins and soaked up remnants of happiness drawn from once tortured places. One day he popped open the cap and did just that, dark brown liquid spilling out over his fingers.

And it put Ames together until he woke up again. That was all he needed: he could break as long as White was whole.

Alec twisted and turned under the flimsy sheets, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers. He was never comfortable, never tired enough to sleep, never hungry. He was a ticking fucking time bomb and it was only a matter of time until Ames didn’t have to take care of him anymore.

He suspected the fever was from his body rejecting the drugs they had pumped in him, the withdrawal now that he didn’t have them. It was their only way of laying claim to him. He knew that his body aching down to his hair follicles and toenails was a result of the numerous surgeries, that when he felt hands on his skin usually there was nothing there, just the memory of it. Ames was careful not to touch him even though Alec _knew_ his touch.

Craved it like his body craved reprieve.

Most of the hours that stretched into eternities he just laid there, staring at the wall or at the ceiling, burning and shivering and crying silently when he was turned away from Ames even though he knew the guy knew it. Still, he never called him out on it, not even when Alec woke up and sobbed because everything hurt and he couldn’t do anything but lay there and die. The asshole who used to be his enemy just gave him water that he coughed up and adjusted his pillows - fluffed them rather - and changed the sheets when Alec’s disgusting bodily fluids soaked thoroughly through them.

He wished he had stayed in that coffee shop longer, the whole damn day, even another hour. Wished he hadn’t rushed it. How Ames looked, that softness to him, the coffee and the little touches and his jacket around the transgenic’s shoulders, as if Ames had stopped time just for him, just for his sorry ass.

Ames didn’t spend much time in the chair until Alec coaxed him out of it. He could see even in the dim lighting of the room that it was killing his back and Alec was tired of wincing on his behalf. He figured he didn’t have much of a shelf life left, not to mention he was scared out of his mind of the Familiar leaving him to die. Alec hadn’t been bred to be alone; he had been bred to take orders and be the good little soldier Manticore had wanted him to be.

He was grateful that Max had broken him out and all, but living alone? Not his thing. It drove him crazy.

Alec knew how lucky he was that Ames relented. It took a while but one day Alec opened his eyes and found Ames sitting right next to him, reading through some golf book. He stared at him for a while, so tired but his eyes sore and burning and it was worse if he closed them. Ames didn’t comment, eventually he even started to read out loud. Even though it was boring Alec got entirely too hooked on Ames’ voice.

It was… nice.

* * *

 

 _~I don_ _’t want to shine, light will make us blind_

 _I don_ _’t want to feel unreal_

_What have I become, born under the sun?_

_Planets will converge for you~ (Unreal - Ill Nino)_

* * *

 

It got worse before it tapered off for a while.

Ames spent most of the time applying wet wash cloths to his boiling skin. The water was lukewarm at best but it helped, especially when Ames’ fingers brushed against Alec’s skin. He figured Ames would have ditched him long before any of this, since he wasn’t exactly fuckable or even halfway decent, but Ames was surprisingly a commitment guy.

Who the hell would’ve known?

Alec was so sore at this point that he couldn’t move. His fingers would twitch at best, eyes burning like someone was driving a red hot poker through them. He stared at the ceiling, tears leaking unbidden from his eyes, and Ames crawled over him so Alec could look at him instead of at the stained ceiling.

“Don’t die on me, freak. We’re figuring it out.” _We_ _’re?_ Oh yeah, Otto came around sometimes, bringing groceries and clean sheets and cans of soup that you could pop into the microwave and saltines too. Alec always meant to thank him but never remembered. Anyway….

Alec hardly thought it was up to him, the whole dying part, but he kept swallowing, kept breathing, kept _living._

The meeting again for coffee would have to be a rain check in another life.

Otto talked about operations and treatments and drugs. Alec pretended to sleep and tried to listen, straining to hear Ames’ whispered conversation, the sound of the guy’s voice a drug that he figured was sorta okay for him to get addicted to.

Alec coughed, sore body jolting forward to try to breathe easier. There were hands steading him while someone else held a cup to his mouth, and he greedily gulped down the water. He hated the silence and they probably knew that, who the hell knew what he said in his delirium?, so the talking started back up again, louder this time. One hand left his shoulder while the other remained, and it grounded Alec enough for him to actively listen to Otto talk about cutting him open.

He protested for a while, fingers digging against his healed chest, Ames gently prying them away. He barked at Alec that he “better do what’s good for you,” but he always waited until Alec was awake until they talked about it again. Alec trusted Otto because Ames did, but he didn’t trust the risk that Ames would be caught and it was all because they had tried to stop something from taking over the transgenic that couldn’t be stopped. Ames seemed to sense this, fingernails lightly tracing imaginary lines into Alec’s stomach as if he could sense something inside, just beneath the surface.

“Only if I get to do it,” he said one day, head lifting up. “And there will be a rain check,” he growled at Alec.

Alec could taste the coffee on his tongue too: a reminder.

* * *

 

One morning Alec was propped up against a mountain of pillows, belly all queasy and liquidey and burning all the way down to his toes like molten lava coursing through him. The heat was taunting him, making everything shimmer like an illusion and then darken. White was watching him like the creepy stalker he was, even though he was trying to obscure that fact by hiding his face behind a book he must have read three dozen times already. Alec didn’t mind, it was a helluva lot better than waking up alone, thinking about when he would forget Ames’ face and whether it would be better if he was miserable over it or too far gone to care that he forgot.

Ames was either waiting for an answer or just waiting for a sure date. Either way, it didn’t matter to Alec.

“I’ll do it.”

It was a miracle that Ames still let him have the final say, or gave him the illusion of having it, even though Alec didn’t need it as much as he imagined he would. Sometimes he missed Ames barking orders at him. “Alec, this operation could kill you.”

Alec’s stomach was still a mess of badly healed scars, the cramps barely noticeable because there was pain everywhere regardless. When he could give a damn about what he looked like again then he would, but if Ames had ever cared about physical appearance than he was faking everything he did because all of it proved otherwise.

“If I don’t get it then I’ll die anyway.”

Ames sighed. Honestly? That was the only answer Alec needed.

* * *

 

“I have to ask,” Alec said, just before they put him under the anesthesia.

The thought of being drugged again scared him, so he didn’t think too much about it. They had already dressed him in a stark white hospital gown, scrubbing him down with something that smelled strongly of antiseptic. He hadn’t let Ames leave the room once, not even to give him the illusion of privacy. He was depending entirely on the guy to watch his back while he was under. Ames claimed he still had ties with one of the doctors who worked in the hospital, someone who he could still trust. So Alec trusted him because he always had and there was no reason for him to stop now.

“Did you change your mind, in the bathtub?”

Ames’ forehead crinkled again in that half-adorable, half-sexy way of his. That was the only answer Alec needed. _That_ Ames had been an illusion, his mind tricking him into thinking Ames wanted him to go like that. The guy hadn’t had a change of heart; he had pulled Alec out as soon as he saw him.

White let it go. He knew better than to wait for Alec to ask, since he wouldn’t. The transgenic’s hand was already enclosed in his own, thumb idly brushing across the top.

A long time ago this would have been an easy way to get rid of Alec, no guilt attached, no further pain. Just let the enemy X5-494 bleed out during surgery, never waking up again. Or maybe in this situation Ames still cared and wanted to put Alec out of his misery, just because there was always a chance the surgery wouldn’t work. Alec tried not to think much about that either.

Maybe they wouldn’t find anything. Maybe they would tell Ames - who insisted on assisting in the surgery, which _did_ comfort Alec slightly - and Ames would let him fade away then, get rid of his body somehow, cremate it probably.

White glanced up at the nurse, seeming to watch her every move. Alec breathed out a sigh; Ames had his back.

“X5-494. _Freak_ ,” Ames sneered, looking down at him again and Alec smiled, more content than he had been in a long time. Maybe ever. He had never told Ames that he could be easy on the eyes, maybe if he survived this then he would. The notion to say goodbye appeared for a brief blip in time but dissipated just as quickly as it had appeared. Alec’s eyes started to close and it was better than before he had been taken, better because Ames would be the last thing he would see this time around. “You have ruined me.”

He didn’t fight against the exhaustion and let his eyes close. He could still see Ames, those sharp, ever-watchful eyes. “It was nice knowing you, Ames,” he murmured, feeling Ames either squeeze his hand or his hand go lax.

“Come ba….”

Luckily, he was out before he could make promises he _knew_ he couldn’t keep.

* * *

 

The darkness wasn’t exactly darkness.

A dark gray fog crowded in on him from all angles; it swirled around him every time he pushed against it. Alec floated in it listlessly for a while because it held him up. There was no fear or exhaustion here, only the faint sound of beeping and voices. He didn’t press and, eventually, the fog dissipated and hurried down a chimney. The cabin was recognizable but he couldn’t place exactly _where_ he had seen it before.

It couldn’t have happened. Otherwise they would never have been in that shitty apartment. Otherwise they never would have had that doubt.

Ames was chopping firewood out behind the cabin, dressed in a navy blue parka and dark jeans. Alec caught himself standing at the kitchen window, watching his ass in those jeans, practically seeing the ripple of his arms as he swung even though they were hidden underneath the parka. It was hard to believe the guy had been a government goon before, suit and dress pants and tie. Now he was in jeans that hugged his ass and there wasn’t a tie in sight and he was chopping wood like he had done it all his life, preparing for the cold front coming in that night.

And how would he have known that? Unless he had lived it?

Still, this was dream material, _not_ reality.

Fingernails dug into his arm, considering his arm was obscured by that damn fog again he could _feel_ them rather than see them. He could feel them like needles digging in, tearing away unnecessary skin in order to get to something. The image started shifting and he _remembered. Never see Ames White again._ Just before they took him. He had been in bed, dreaming, and that dream had been torn from him. Ames told him he was going out to get dinner and Alec couldn’t sleep, thinking that he wouldn’t come back, but he must have eventually.

And when he woke up he was no longer in bed or in that room and Ames wasn’t there. Like Ames had sold him out. And Alec had been such an idiot to think that at all, would have been an idiot if the thought hadn’t crossed his mind at least a half dozen times too.

White probably knew all that Alec thought about. White probably didn’t care.

Ames had another chance now: let Alec bleed out on the table. Alec couldn’t wake up and he wouldn’t push away Ames’ intentional hands even if he were awake. He knew he was a fool, for a lot of reasons, but he was _tied_ to Ames now. Had been tied to him since day one.

The _kiss._

That warm, wet mouth smothering him, squirming against his own, pumping air down into his oxygen-starved throat, into his stilling lungs. He had smiled like he’d been waiting for that moment after Ames tied him up, handcuffed to a goddamn air conditioner, choking down stale pizza. He had smiled for no goddamn reason except for the fact that he had even known then.

Known what was to come.

 _Someone grasped that sky and tugged and Ames was dragged through the snow until Alec couldn_ _’t see him anymore. Until someone stole his dream._ The fingers tore into his shoulder to get to muscle and bone, and the sharp crack and the blinding heat that followed, that swept over him so thoroughly until he could no longer tell up and down, sky from ground, it put him right back in that chair just as fists pounded into him, his own blood smearing over his cheek and lip. _No dreams came after that, just a bottomless pit of darkness and Alec screaming for Ames but no one could hear him because no sound was coming out._ Then on the table… his own blood seeping through his hands and spiraling down into some drain, the overhead lights blinking as if about to burn out, the fingers digging around in his head, searching for secrets, for memories.

How could they have not known about Ames when he was Alec’s every waking thought? Still, he had pushed him back until the gritty fingers probed deeper, demanding _more._ And still he pushed him farther back, deeper down, willed the cabin and the woods and the window out of existence until they were nothing so that they couldn’t touch it. _Couldn_ _’t_ touch it.

_And he knew in that one gut-churning moment before he fell into that inky blackness that he would never see Ames White again._

He had, but how many more chances would he get?

* * *

 

Something pulled him out of the gray and the pain.

“I found the sick bastards,” White told him nonchalantly as soon as Alec’s eyes opened. His arms were crossed and he was tense even though Alec knew Otto was guarding the door outside. By Ames’ posture and clipped tone Alec knew he was meant to drop the subject, that Ames had taken care of them, that _they_ weren’t worth mentioning, apparently, but that didn’t mean Alec followed those guidelines.

“Tell me.”

Ames sighed and uncrossed his arms. He fidgeted for a good minute or two with the vase packed tight with flowers and then answered. “Manticore wannabees. Came after you when you were in surgery. Apparently they weren’t done with you. I took care of it.”

 _Fingers forcefully jammed his eyes closed. The restraints on his ankles were loosened but his legs were numb, bright light searing Alec_ _’s eyes even through closed eyelids. The gaping wound in his thigh had drawn a scream or two, but no more than that. Every once in a while he pulled Ames out from where he was tucked back securely, whenever they weren’t playing with his head. Every once in a while he allowed himself the thought that White was looking, coming, something. Fingers moved against his compromised skin and he couldn’t open his eyes even though there was nothing there anymore…._

Alec shivered, but then he thought about Ames going after them in scrubs, his blood coating them. He thought about White chasing them down and beating them to within an inch of their lives, snarling at them all the while that they would _pay_ for touching Alec. The thought might have been too wishful, but Alec had seen enough of Ames to know that it wasn’t so far from the truth either. “I would have liked to have seen that,” he admitted.

There were fewer pillows behind his back now, yet the bed was slightly comfier than the one back at their apartment. The first time he had woken up Ames was sulking in the corner of the white-washed room and Otto was just entering with a bouquet of flowers, and Alec had been too tired to try to grab the Familiar’s attention. Now? His eyes were all on him.

Ames sighed again, impatient this time. He seemed more distant than Alec had seen him in a long while. It probably should have been concerning but as far as Alec was concerned, he had weeks more to sleep through. He was owed at _least_ that much: pain free sleep that was devoid of nightmares.

 “They find anything?”

Ames shifted in place, hands jammed deep in his pockets, and for the first time since waking from the surgery Alec realized how tired the guy looked. Considering how long he had been working _and_ taking care of the transgenic, he must be pretty tired.

“Withdrawal from the drugs they put in your system fucked up your internal wiring. Hallucinations, fever, memory loss. I’m sure the list goes on.” _It does,_ Alec almost told him. _Or did._ At least he didn’t feel the ache anymore, that hole inside him… yet, but he still wasn’t hungry and he was still _so_ tired. And Ames just wouldn’t sit down. He started to pace, making Alec feel dizzy and nauseous, but it was better than Alec himself moving, better than Ames not being here. “We found a tracker in you and that was drugged too, some type of poison. Sent it to get scanned. Lucky for you I still have people in high places.” He wouldn’t stop then, rambling, and Alec had never heard him ramble before. “They said by the state of you there must have been dozens of surgeries. I know they cut into your head and tried to take things, there’s scars there too. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shook his head, cupping his face in one of his hands, and continued. “No. Never mind. I know why.” He started to pace again. “I never wanted you dead, Alec. Not even at the start. Not _really._ _”_

“You don’t need to convince….”

“Shut up and let me talk,” Ames growled. “You left me a damn _note,_ Alec.” And now it was coming out, when Alec was much too weak to deflect _any_ of this. “You thought I could just let you go, that easily? You thought that any of it was _easy_ for me?” Ames was barely holding it under a shout now and Alec’s anxiety ricocheted. _I told you I loved you. You never said it but you didn_ _’t need to. Your fingers were warm… so freaking warm and you bought me another cup of coffee. I didn’t deserve…._ “When I found you in that bathtub I thought you were dead, and you asked me if I would’ve let you lay there, drowning in our bathtub, like whatever the fuck you did to me had no effect on me.” _But I didn_ _’t do anything._ “You made me fall in love with you,” Ames said almost as soon as the thought finished in his mind, said it like it was an accusation.

Alec had been right though, he _had_ done something to Ames.

Then, the Familiar started to wind down. “But it doesn’t matter how I feel. You’re the one that needs to make the decision, ‘cause fuck knows I’ve been making all the decisions. The rain check’s yours, another time, _if_ you still want it, but there’s other things to figure out too. _You_ have to make the decision now, and to do that you need to go away. For a little while. Forever if that’s what you want.”

If Alec’s head was spinning before it stopped now, heart thundering like a raging storm was imminent inside his chest. Ames moved the flowers so that they were centered exactly in the middle of the table, eying them intensely. Alec stared at him, trying to figure out what the hell to say. Was Ames breaking up with him?

The sun lowered until most of Ames’ face was cast in shadow, but even then Alec could see the emptiness in his eyes, like he was trying hard not to show the slightest bit of anything.

* * *

 

 _~Sometimes I can_ _’t believe it_

 _I_ _’m moving past the feeling_

 _Sometimes I can_ _’t believe it_

 _I_ _’m moving past the feeling again~ (The Suburbs - Mr. Little Jeans’ cover)_

* * *

 

One morning when Ames wasn’t there, Alec crept into the bathroom and picked at the tape holding the bandages to his stomach. The scars were still there, angry red marks a testament to what had been done to him. Maybe in time they would fade but for the time being the transgenic would have to just deal. Alec hoped Ames at least knocked them around a bit, yet he was too afraid to ask if that wasn’t the case.

There was a new scar too, no doubt from the surgery, not crooked like the others and running vertically instead of horizontally from the middle of his chest to his lower stomach. He traced the full length of it, the desire long since satisfied to dig his fingers inside, to once more lay claim to his own body. Then Ames would really lock him up in some institution somewhere.     

He had bit his fingernails down low so he would be less tempted to pick at the stitches holding his head together, yet that desire hadn’t completely abated. They itched constantly and the sensation of fingers wiggling around inside his head caused the nausea to come out and taunt him relentlessly.

Alec had been careful not to spend too long in the bathroom, remembering how often Ames had complained about him spending hours in the bathroom to make his hair look ridiculous when Alec never even bothered to brush it, but Ames found him before he could make it back to bed.

“You ready to go?”

The transgenic fixed the tape and rolled his shirt back down. His gaze avoided Ames’ as he washed his hands thoroughly, noticing the dried blood that was still underneath his fingernails. It didn’t escape him that White hadn’t once touched him since he had emerged from under the anesthesia, but he wasn’t about to call him out on it. If White was turned off then it was his right to be and honestly, Alec was pretty turned off by what he looked like too. His body was laden with scars and his head with stitches, there were deep bags under his eyes and his face was pale and overly freckled. Not to mention any clothes he wore swamped him because of how underweight he was. If the face in the mirror was how bad he actually looked, then he got it.

He dried his hands and turned, though managed to walk into a chestful of Ames in his determination to make himself as small and relatively invisible as possible. There were fingers on his head then, palpitating the area around his stitches. Alec breathed hard, taking in Ames’ scent of cheap soap and _home_ , oddly enough. He squirmed under the touch and pushed his hands away, though White caught them in his own and held tight. No words passed between them, not even so much as a sigh, but Alec was more than comfortable like that just standing there, basking in Ames’ strength and the attention in general.

Alec didn’t rush it like he did all those other times, didn’t try to pull away again until Ames sighed and stepped back. “We should go.”

He nodded and left the bathroom, Ames following close on his heels. White picked his jacket up from Alec’s bed and readied the wheelchair and squeezed Alec’s shoulders for a second after Alec sat down.

Alec hadn’t exactly been sure what would happen after the surgery. He would get better and Ames would leave. He would get worse and Ames would leave. In any scenario he came up with it was Ames leaving and Alec who let it happen, thinking he didn’t get a say in any of it. The transgenic who was once labeled as freak owed White more than he would ever be able to repay, and he wasn’t the sort of guy who would take payment in love either. Alec hadn’t been bred to love, to live some type of domestic life, and he knew White hadn’t either. Just because Ames turned it around to Alec leaving didn’t mean it would bring a different end result, didn’t mean that Alec truly had a say in any of this.

They went out the back entrance, Ames pushing Alec out through a side door and into an alley. Otto was already waiting in a black SUV, heat turned up as high as it would go and leather seats comfortably warm as Alec allowed himself to sink back against them. The radio was turned low to some country western station and Alec tried to enjoy the ride back to that shitty apartment that he felt cheated to say he couldn’t call home, but he couldn’t. He choked on the words he wanted to say and his stomach tumbled with all these feelings like misery and regret and frustration and betrayal, and he was angry because he wished White would just admit it.

Admit that he didn’t want him anymore.

* * *

 

White was decent enough to let Alec hang around for a few days.

The tension between them was so thick it probably couldn’t have even been cut with a knife. Ames kept his distance even when Alec tried everything he could do not to keep that distance. He always stayed within sight ‘cause he wanted to make it harder, make it so fucking difficult for Ames to go through with this. Alec didn’t want to leave, he wanted to _stay._ How the hell could White think differently? Why the hell couldn’t he just tell Alec the truth?

White was lying though, that much was painfully clear.

It was so obvious that he was going out of his head just like Alec was. White reached out sometimes and pulled back once he realized what the hell he was doing, spun around Alec like his head was raging against him that all this was the wrong move. Alec had already laid his heart out bare for the guy, told Ames freaking White that he loved him and this was what would come of it?

Still, the words cut deeper than any surgical tool could. _‘But it doesn’t matter how I feel. You’re the one that needs to make the decision, ‘cause fuck knows I’ve been making all the decisions.’_

‘I want this,’ Alec would tell him, yet every time he begged this of Ames, he never gave in. He shook his head and told Alec he needed to leave, needed to get his head clear, and no matter how many times Alec told him his head was already clear, that all that had to do with Ames, that Ames had brought him back where Alec was so sure he would never come back to, Ames wouldn’t back off of doing whatever the fuck he thought was best for him.

_‘You have to make the decision now, and to do that you need to go away. For a little while. Forever.’_

And then the confrontation.

It was White’s own fault. The word ‘forever’ taunted him like all the shit they had to go through together meant _nothing_. Now that Alec was relatively ‘normal’ again, White would just kick him out onto the street and that would be that. White was done with this, done with them, when everything that he had ever done meant otherwise, every word, every touch, every _look._

He stopped feigning sleep, slipped out of bed and shoved Ames out of the chair he was sitting in. “So you’re just gonna kick me out, huh? Now that there’s nothing left to do you’re just gonna give up on us?” White hadn’t been fully asleep and his super quick “Familiar” reflexes prevented him from falling on his ass, but he still collided with the nearest wall when Alec shoved him again, sick to _death_ of the facade Ames was wearing, sick to death of Ames waiting around like Alec was a fucking ghost. “Wake the fuck up, Ames! It’s like you’re sleepwalking! I’m right here, okay? You get that? I am right here and you just wanna pretend like nothing happened? You wanna know why I tried to kill myself? I was so sick of feeling empty, so sick of not knowing what you wanted! I thought it would be better for you, and you said it wasn’t easy for _you_? What about me? What about that I didn’t think you gave a damn about anything? What did you do to convince me otherwise? You were gone most of the time and you wouldn’t talk the other half! What was I supposed to do? What was I…?”

Alec started to sink down on his knees in front of Ames, the wave of near-abandonment washing over him like a tidal wave and yanking him under. He shielded his face with his hands, attempting to draw in a decent breath, but Ames wouldn’t let him hide. He eased him down and pulled Alec’s hands away. Everything was being taken from him. He couldn’t even be alone when he needed to be, couldn’t even convince Ames how much he needed this, _him._ What else did he have to do?

“You need to go back to Transgenic City, Alec. It’s time.”

Alec shook his head; it was like the guy hadn’t heard a goddamn word. “Why are you doing this? I know… I know I haven’t given you much reason to keep me around.”

“Alec,” White took his face in his hands, willing the transgenic to look at him. He waited until Alec would, waited until Alec did it on his own terms rather than force Alec’s head up and he didn’t know why and he didn’t _want_ to know why anymore. “I’m doing this for _you._ ”

And that was why Ames made a few calls and drove him back to Seattle and dropped him off at Logan’s new place, which apparently housed a convenient tunnel for entrance to Terminal City. And that was why Alec shut up about it because Ames was convinced and he didn’t know what to think anymore and moreover, he didn’t _want_ to think anymore.

Because maybe he was right, maybe Alec needed to get some clarity from Max, Logan, Josh and the others. Maybe he needed to get his fucking head on straight again. Then again, maybe this whole ‘time’ thing was a ruse and he just needed to forget Ames White. He repeated this like a mantra as he stepped out of the SUV and checked out Logan’s new digs, which were even less appealing than Joshua’s. Still, as much as the guy looked frazzled as he gave Alec a half-hug, he looked sort of at home too. Alec envied him that at least, and ignored the eye quirk Logan sent Ames. 

Not everyone knew the guy like Alec did.

Ames followed the two of them at a safe distance as they walked through the tunnel. Alec expected all of it to come flooding back as soon as he was back into the bowels of his new home, the one that he had all too happily left all that time ago, but he was amazed that that much of his memory was still gone. Nothing looked or felt familiar and thus, was jarring. Ames shot him a questioning glance which Alec saw out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look over at him. He felt like a dick, sure, but if White wanted him to cut ties then pretty much ignoring him was as good a start as any.

White didn’t demand anything, he merely held out the bag of goods he had promised Max - food, clothes, meds, anything he could get his hands on - for Alec to take. Before he could he noticed Max, swinging herself down the stairs in her leather getup, and Alec couldn’t have forgotten her even if he had tried. That dark, straight as a blade hair almost came down to her hips, longer than he remembered it. She seemed to hold no grudge either, given the quirk of a smile that betrayed relief over her usual anger at anything he ever did, even though Alec couldn’t exactly remember _how_ he had left things.

To him, Max’s half-smile was like a hundred million suns - blinding away all the bad spots - as she took the bag from the enemy’s hand and drew Alec into a hug. “Missed you, idiot,” she whispered in his ear, and Alec startled because it was the absolute last thing he had expected her to say. Beat his ass? Sure. Or maybe that was coming later. She let him go and he grinned at her, only half-faking it.

The truth was, leaving White was a step in the right direction, to get his head clear, and he should thank the guy a million times over for convincing him of that, for letting him _do_ this and _be_ here again, but he also knew that this wouldn’t last long either. If he had left once then he would do it again, it was only a matter of time, and then where would he go?

“You call me when you’re ready,” Ames told him, discreetly curling a card into Alec’s palm, his sneer only a mask for Max’s sake. Alec kept up appearances too, rolling his eyes and shaking Ames’ hand when all he wanted to do was burrow inside the guy and never come out again. Still, he needed this. Needed to come to White on his _own terms._

It was some type of miracle that no one tore White apart as he went back down the tunnel toward Logan’s hovel. Alec didn’t draw the scene out any longer, knowing Max and the others had no right to know the relationship he had had with the guy. If he stayed here long enough then they might figure it out, but Alec wasn’t betting on being here long enough.

As Max practically shoved him into Joshua he thought about his own insecurities too. How White convinced him to do this because it was the only way he knew how to let Alec go, and maybe it was the easy way too, making Alec think it was his decision. Maybe he just didn’t care about Alec’s decision.

“Medium fella come with me now. Max has list.” Alec bit down on his bottom lip, letting Joshua’s arm crush him against his side and lead him away. If he left now then he could probably catch up with Ames… _probably._

He couldn’t; he had to think this through.

* * *

 

Max’s list was _long._

There were daily check-ins to see how everyone was getting on, making lists for meal times and class times and just about everything under the sun, keeping track of those who were pregnant or injured or disabled, and making sure every department was doing its job. Alec forgot how many departments there had been, though figured Max and the others must have also expanded under her leadership. Even though Alec wasn’t the most dependable person, Max put a whole helluva lot of responsibility into his hands, which in some ways miraculously motivated him to actually not let her down.

Alec spent his mornings organizing food into categories and helping to distribute it to where it was needed most. Depending on how long it took him, he met up with Joshua in the classroom before noon and helped with lesson plans and keeping all the kids preoccupied for a while. Max had chosen Joshua as their sole teacher because of his patience and optimism, even despite everyone knowing the guy was socially illiterate. Still, Josh managed to keep the kids busy for most of the day, which had Alec reporting back that it was a success.

This was the easiest period of his day. Being around Joshua meant he could relax, since the guy always somehow saw  Alec as inherently good and thus, always had his back and was never on his case for anything. He was also incredibly overprotective, always snapping at the heels of anyone who wanted to give Alec a hard time. Joshua still didn’t understand why Alec had left, but he made it clear that he didn’t need to either and that was a weight off Alec’s back. Max hounded him continuously about where the hell he went off to and Mole made a big deal about not giving a rat’s ass even though Alec knew he did, so any minute he got with Joshua he took.

Considering the kids didn’t know anything about him and therefore, didn’t harbor any judgments, it was easy to be around them too, trying to teach them the ways of the world. If Max ever caught him hanging around too long she would pull him out, fearing he would taint the minds of the young and bright, but for the most part Alec felt at home in that classroom.

The rest of the day was spent with Luke and Dix in the tech area, going through hours of news footage to see if they could gain an upper hand with either the police or the frightened yet simultaneously nosy public. Hopefully he wouldn’t fall asleep before Max came back and asked him for a report, but honestly staring at screens until his eyes bled or the room started to twirl was _yawn._ Still, keeping busy was good, and it didn’t slip past Alec that keeping him busy was Max’s way of making sure he stuck around. That much was clear when even the nights were hectic and sleep started to become a luxury, not that his tiny bed actually sounded appealing anyway.

Still, every time he managed to catch an hour or two of shuteye he was forced to block out Ames’ warmth pressed up against his back, an arm slung around his waist and breath tickling his ear, the sweet scent of Ames White surrounding him until he swore he was back in that shitty apartment again, trying to hold himself together with strings that continuously frayed or even snapped entirely.

White had been able to hold him together for the most part, at first, but then even he hadn’t been enough to stop Alec from trying to kill himself… because that’s what it was. It was Alec going under because going under was peace and the world slid into place when he wasn’t struggling to stay conscious, stay upright, stay somewhat sane.

Except Ames hadn’t cared about that, hadn’t _needed_ Alec to be whole. Just there.

Same with Alec. As long as Ames was just fucking _there_.

He shut his eyes and he was there, right there in Ames’ arms, and like it was a crime he was usually always interrupted: Max sticking her head around the door and whistling to get his attention, telling him she needed something or other or _they_ needed him. She was trying to pull his head together.

Except there was no escaping Ames. When he was working his head was filled with so much else that he could forget all those months of panic, frustration, exhaustion and losing himself in the process, Ames always doing something to tie him together again, but when he had a moment to himself Ames was there haunting him and sometimes Alec would turn, expecting to see him there.

And then it hit him like a race car at full speed: Ames had left him here. He wasn’t coming back anytime soon.

He wasn’t coming back at all.

So he avoided nights alone and hung out with Josh and watched him paint, black stretched thin across canvas when he ran out of colors and was waiting for Logan to get more. There was a darkness in his pieces that Alec had never seen before, but still he could see the light. Sometimes he would stare at those damn amateurish paintings that were getting less and less amateur by the canvas for _hours._ Sometimes he would see Ames in them too, wearing sunglasses and walking by, head turned away from Alec. He felt more than anything sometimes that those paintings were a piece of him, revealing to the world what he didn’t want it to see. He had come here to escape but he couldn’t _escape._ Max had thought having him here would solve the problem, get him involved again, get him back into a family where he belonged.

He was _lying_ to himself.

Still, he lingered. He encouraged Joshua to keep painting even though each canvas ate a piece of his heart. He stopped trying to think about Ames when he got five minutes alone or had to take a leak or wolfed down half a granola bar in peace. He longed for Ames to ply him with food and baths again, both of which were in shortage here. He longed for Ames _period_.

If he went back… he couldn’t rush it. Ames would know he had rushed it if he went back now.

Maybe Ames would always reject him.

Even when he wanted so much just to prove him otherwise, he lingered. He stuck around until everything he saw and everything he breathed was Ames, and even then he could not go back. He waited for things to get easier and waited to see if they would get just that little bit better and waited to slip up and get out, but Alec worked, he worked his ass off to make it up to Max and no one suspected a damn thing, he was sure of it. 

And then Max handed him a can of freaking peaches to give to some kid in class and Alec brushed her hand as he was taking it and shit came flooding back. He and Max on some rooftop somewhere and Max holding a pair of binoculars and Alec stretched out beside her and how he used to be, enjoying every single second of it.

 _‘Ever think about having kids, Maxie?’_ And there had been longing in Max’s eyes; he hadn’t been so sure of it then but he was now. He _knew_ that look. He had seen it before, _felt_ it before.

_‘What about you, Alec? Any kids in your future?’_

And that’s when he knew, and it wasn’t about a happy domestic life with kids either. It was about wanting to be with someone even if your life got fucked up because of it, wanting to take a bullet for someone (again), wanting to be with him when it was tough and shitty because they were with you for that. It was putting your life in someone else’s hands and completely trusting them with it - but also being able to snipe at them - and have them protect you even if it hurt you in the short run or the long run. It was about being with someone who knew every inch of you and wasn’t ashamed, who bought you an extra cup of coffee, who told you everything he did was for _you._

Even if you hated him for it.

Alec went to Joshua then. It was an hour before class started and he was shirking his duties since technically he was supposed to be sorting food for another two hours at least, but he put the can of peaches down on the desk, startling Joshua out of his painting reverie. His brush paused and he turned, pulling the brush away from the canvas once he realized Alec was early or that he wasn’t sitting up on the desk and disarraying the papers like he usually did.

“Alec okay?”

He fingered the card in his pocket; he still hadn’t read it. When he glanced up again Joshua’s worried gaze washed over him, soothing and sure. “I have to talk to you about something, Josh, but it can’t leave this room.” Alec knew that wasn’t the problem, it was that Joshua wouldn’t understand him and he _needed_ him to this time around. He needed to get this out of his head, get _Ames_ out of his head.

“Trust Joshua. Joshua keeps secrets, good secret keeper.”

Alec nodded. “I know, buddy.” He tried to wrap his head around how the hell he was going to put this. No way in hell was he mentioning White or letting Josh put together the pieces, even though he doubted that last part pretty thoroughly. Max would know exactly who he meant but Joshua had no idea just how fucked Alec was and he was better off _not_ knowing. It wasn’t like Alec wanted to be the one to taint him. “I need to see someone… someone not in Terminal City.”

Joshua’s face fell. “Alec have to leave again, like last time?”

Fuck, it was pretty sad how the guy was getting better and better at putting pieces together; Alec figured he was rubbing off on him. “Josh, listen. You can’t tell Max about any of this okay? I just… I don’t belong here anymore.”

Joshua slammed the brush down into the slot underneath the canvas, knocking a small jar of paint over and onto the floor in the process. He was on Alec before he could back up, nose practically touching his. Alec never thought that Joshua would have such a reaction, but he should’ve expected it considering he had left him last time without a goodbye. He had regretted it, sure, but he had never exactly apologized either. Joshua gave it to him straight then. “Not true. Alec belong here. Alec belong here with _us._ ”

The notion made something burst inside him, Joshua’s desperation and near-possessiveness was the cause of that, ‘cause Alec knew beyond a doubt now that his statement was the farthest thing from the truth. He liked being here, liked teaching the kids and watching Joshua paint, but this place didn’t get him.

Staying here was the lie, not the other way around, not _leaving._

He maintained eye-contact despite the raw emotion in his friend’s eyes, needing him to see how serious he was. In some ways Joshua was the only friend he had; he _got_ Alec in a way no one else save for Ames ever had, but that didn’t mean he could tell him the truth either. “If I told you that I’m happy somewhere else, somewhere that’s not here, would you let me go?”

A sad look crossed Joshua’s face but Alec was sure he had hooked the guy. He felt bad about manipulating him like this but he didn’t see much of a choice. “Joshua want Alec to be happy.”

He took Joshua’s shoulders in his hands and shook them, needing the physical contact. “I know, man, which is why you’ve gotta let me hightail it out of here while I still can.” Like he couldn’t get out of this place fast enough, except it wasn’t that and he didn’t need to convince Joshua of it. He knew, knew that Alec wouldn’t risk leaving again unless he was sure.

“Alec not the same anymore,” Joshua shook his head sadly. “Darker. Try to paint but too hard.”

The X5 motioned at the painting he was currently working on, hard black lines and soft gray in the middle and the last dashes of red that had been used up from the forgotten jar near the blacked out window until Joshua acquired more. “Nah, man. You ask me?” He grinned at the doubtful look on Joshua’s face. “You nailed me.”

Joshua picked up his brush again, red-tipped, and finished the space of canvas he had been working on before Alec had come in. Alec expected his friend to tell him to pose for one last picture, but Joshua merely continued painting. “Alec write and come back to visit.”

“I promise I’ll try. That’s the best I can do.”

With no warning except, hey, maybe the situation warranted it, Joshua turned and drew Alec into one of his crushing hugs that had Alec patting his back and wondering how long he could last without adequate air. Joshua was starting to get the hang of it though, letting Alec go after a long minute and slapping Alec on the back, pushing his long hair out of his face. “Joshua miss Alec.”

“Yeah,” Alec smiled. “I’ll miss you too, big guy. So you gonna keep quiet about this till I can sneak out tonight?”

Joshua nodded solemnly, which Alec didn’t think the guy was capable of, and Alec gave him one final pat on the shoulder before turning and leaving. He thought again about staying, about being able to fit in here after a while, but every impulse in his body was screaming at him to leave. It wasn’t about proving Ames wrong or wanting to rush things in order to convince himself.

Staying was suicide, and maybe leaving was too.

But he had to know.

Alec leaned up, or rather fell, against the nearest wall, checked the hallway to make sure no one was watching and dug the crumpled business card out of his pocket. Some of the words were smudged but he could make them out all too well as his hungry eyes scanned over the back of the card several times until the words finally registered, and then when they did several times more until more than ten minutes had passed and Alec had to get away from paint fumes leaking out from underneath the door and get some air.

_Freak,_

_Guess it’s time for my note. Or however much I can fit on this._

_If you change your mind or ever come out of that shit hole, then come by 2827 Woodmere Lane. Just outside of Portland._

_I’ll be waiting._

_White._

There was nothing to pack and no other goodbyes he could get away with, so he had the card tucked securely back in his pocket and was striding down an entirely different hallway that was more like a tunnel in five minutes flat. He briefly explained things to Logan even though he didn’t need to since the guy was practically psychic, wished him and Max good luck and accepted the backpack Logan shoved against his chest after rejecting it once. Logan could be a damn persistent son of a bitch when he wanted to be, and he was ashamed that he had tried to drive a wedge between him and Max.

But that was past, and this was now.

“You sure this is what you want, Alec?” Logan asked him just before Alec opened the door to make his way out into the world again. 

He turned to find that Logan was still standing, despite the mountain of paperwork littering his desk and the absolute certainty that Logan had never cared about what happened to Alec before. “Yeah, Logan. I’m sure.”

“Good luck then.” Alec opened the door. “And I’ll tell Max you said goodbye.”

He nodded and closed the door to one life.

* * *

 

Hitchhiking to the border of Seattle was dangerous but necessary. Things were on high-alert so hot wiring a car and getting out of the cold was too risky and too good to be true. Getting into Seattle was a helluva lot harder then getting out so he didn’t have _too_ much trouble getting out, and not too long after he managed to hot wire a car and escape from the cold. Winter was _still_ lingering, and it seemed to get colder the farther south he went. The air conditioner in the truck was finicky but he ignored it for the most part and put on some country western station and drove. If he thought too hard about what the hell he was going to say to Ames once he got there then he quickly shut it down. He didn’t want to rehearse, and he also didn’t want to think about the strong possibility that Ames was no longer there, had never been there at all, just put random words and numbers down on paper.

Hell, it could have been his childhood home or something and Alec was being the sucker for it.

If Ames wasn’t there then Alec would just keep moving, like he had been trained to do, just keep moving until he fell in somewhere.

Alec pulled over after a while among some trees and slept for twenty minutes, not having a decent night’s sleep in weeks. And what if Ames sent him back? What then? He couldn’t sleep any longer and he put the truck into drive again and went on. There were so many ‘what ifs’ but he stayed under the speed limit and paid attention to all the signs, being pulled over the last thing he needed.

‘Just outside’ was his first clue, that meant suburbia. That was Ames’ calling anyway, always had been. He had had it and it had been taken from him by his wife and then Max and Logan and even _Alec_. It wasn’t like White could any longer afford anything in suburbia, unless he had been lying to Alec all this time, but he was there beyond a doubt. Alec trolled neighborhoods as discreetly as he could, scanning numbers until they all started to blur together and he threw up outside the window and hightailed it back to the city.

What the fuck was he doing?

On his way back he decided to try one more, just to sate his curiosity. Just _one goddamn more._

And _there: 2827 Woodmere Lane._ He slowed the truck, heart thundering like a jackhammer in his chest. He didn’t go far before he turned the truck around and parked a dozen houses down the road, just behind a cluster of trees. Then he started walking. He was tired and cold and hungry, the hoodie he was wearing was threadbare and he had already eaten the can of peaches and two granola bars Logan had given him, but it was almost like none of those things existed anymore - the needs of his body on the absolute bottom - once he found the house.

The neighborhood was quiet save for a couple kids playing hoops in the driveway of the house across from the one he was currently eying, paying Alec no mind. The next thing he noticed was that the porch light was on and the door open just beyond the screen door. The yard was in disarray, lawn not mowed and trees overgrown, but similar houses were in the same state of disrepair and Alec told himself to stop searching for things that convinced him to turn back.

Ames could be inside.

His legs took him up the driveway before he could say no, but the least he could do was survey the area and make a mental note as he entered the sparsely furnished house as to how many doors there were and how many windows he could possibly squeeze through. He cringed at the slight squeak of the screen door and left the other door open just in case and tiptoed through the living room.

Voices… outside. He walked toward them and hesitated before the open sliding door. Ames was there, barely three feet away, lounged out in a lawn chair and facing away from Alec. His hair was as short as Alec remembered and he bet it was as soft too. His voice was so low that Alec could hardly hear him, yet he would know the rise and fall of that voice anywhere, would be able to distinguish it even if it was a whisper. _Fuck,_ he had missed the surety of it, the _confidence._ He was so _close_ , nothing separating them now, and Otto was sitting next to him and he looked up while Ames was saying something and _froze._

The world tilted then. The transgenic could have left Ames in his perfect little life just as easily as he had come, yet now he couldn’t. That thought scared him. Alec took a step back on mere instinct, nearly colliding with a chair, but the damage was already done. Within mere seconds Ames had turned and stood up, just as frozen in place as Alec was, and every impulse that was in Alec all boiled down to the one that screamed at him to run and never look back because he was intruding and he shouldn’t be here and Ames was actually _here_ but staring at him and Alec couldn’t read him and didn’t want to wait until he could.

His mouth opened and stupid words came out before he could make them stop. “Three still a crowd?” Ames was still frozen, face completely unreadable. Alec longed to breach the space between them but he needn’t have even bothered to crave it. In three long strides Ames crossed over the lawn and into the house and wrapped strong, warm arms around a chilled Alec, practically sweeping the transgenic up off his feet. Alec, still feeling awkward even as he leaned into Ames, caught Otto watching them over Ames’ shoulder. “You feel like getting in on this?” The guy relented and before long the three of them were a mess of limbs and clothes and what suspiciously looked and felt like tears that none of them would ever admit to. Alec snuffled against Ames’ shoulder. “Didn’t think….”

“Shut up,” Ames affectionately told him, and Alec did just that.

* * *

 

“I remember the dream,” Alec told him, when his arms were sore and his back stiff and his heart a pulsing orb in his chest, filled to the brim with all these things he didn’t have names for. He was pulled into Ames’ arms, where he usually was these days, and the Familiar was fingering the bar code at the back of Alec’s neck with lazy fascination.

“What dream?”

 _The cabin, with the chimney and the chopping wood and your ass in those jeans._ “I was so gone for you,” Alec rasped out, exhausted though sated from Ames’ welcome home present even though Alec had come back three days ago. The house was Ames’ childhood home and home had _always_ meant Alec was in it. He smiled and snuggled back against his once captor. Things had definitely changed. It had taken so long to get here, yet they were still in it for the long haul. Who knew what was waiting for them next, and the thought both scared and excited Alec. Right now? He was much too happy to be anything but the latter. “And you didn’t even know,” he finished. Ames’ hand stilled against Alec’s own but he didn’t move it away. He looked down at it, stared at Alec’s fingers carefully.

“You ready to move on?”

Alec leaned back and kissed him, and the smirk was all too intentional. “With you? Hell yes.”

**FIN**

* * *

 

_~Celebrate, terrify me_

_Don’t mystify your love~ (Mystify - Paradise Lost)_


End file.
